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The untaught harmony of spring :
While, whisp’ring pleasure as they fly,
Cool Zephyrs thro’the clear blue sky
Their gather'd fragrance fling,
Where'er the oak's thick branches stretch
A broader browner shade;
Where'er the rude and moss-grown beech
O’er-canopies the glade ?,
Shakesp, Mid Night's Dream.
And float amid the liquid noon :
Some lightly o'er the current skim,
Some shew their gayly-gilded trim
Quick-glancing to the sun.
To Contemplation's sober eye a
Such is the race of Man :
And they that creep, and they that fly,
Shall end where they began.
Virgil. Georg. lib. iv.,
Milton's Paradise Lost, book vii. d While insects from the threshold preach, * c.
M. GREEN, in tbe Grotto, Lodgley's Mifcellanies, Vol. V. p. 161.