Nymph of the splendent eye and rosy cheek,
Who erst from courts and luxury didst speed,
And with thine elder sister, Temperance, seek
The woodbin'd cottage on the daisied mead;
There will I woo thee, for thou dwellest there
Amid the sons of industry; thy smile
Soothes every sorrow, cheers the hour of toil,
And, blest by thee, sweet is their frugal fare.
When the woods echo with the early horn
Thou trip'st the wild heath, clad in flowing vest,
( While youthful zephyr wantons o'er thy breast )
And, with blithe song, dost greet the blushing morn;
The airy sprite, who o'er thy fair form roves,
Thy beauty tastes, and, as he tastes, improves.