 | John Aikin - 1774 - 328 стор.
...kind ; He marlc'd in his elegant ftrain, The graces that glow'd in his mind. On purpofe he planted yon trees, That birds in the covert might dwell; He cultur'd the thyme for the bees, But never would rifle their-cell. Ye lambkins that play'd at his feet, Go bleat, and your mafter bemoan : His mufic was artlefs... | |
 | John Aikin - 1810 - 414 стор.
...in his elegant strain, . av;.. -;_ On purpose he planted yon trees, That birds in the covert plight dwell ; He cultur'd the thyme for the bees, But never would rifle their cell. Ye lambkins that play'd at his feet, Go bleat, and your master bemoan : His music was artless... | |
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On purpose he planted yon trees, That birds in the covert might dwell ; He cultur'd the thyme for the bees, But never would rifle their cell. Ye lambkins that play'd at his feet, Go bleat, and your master bemoan ; His music was artless and sweet, His... 