Glad o'er the meads the cattle bound,
And love and harmony go round.

But chief into the human heart
You strike the dear delicious dart;
You teach us pleasing pangs to know,
To languish in luxurious wo,
To feel the generous passions rise,
Grow good by gazing, mild by sighs;
Each happy moment to improve,
And fill the perfect year with love.

Come, thou delight of heaven and earth
To whom all creatures owe their birth:
Oh, come, sweet smiling! tender, come!
And yet prevent our final doom.
For long the furious god of war
Has crush'd us with his iron car,
Has raged along our ruin'd plains,
Has foil'd them with his cruel stains,
Has sunk our youth in endless sleep,
And made the widow'd virgin weep.
Now let him feel thy wonted charms,
Oh, take him to thy twining arms!
And, while thy bosom heaves on his,
While deep he prints the humid kiss,
Ah, then! his stormy heart control,
And sigh thyself into his soul.

TO AMANDA.*

COME, dear Amanda, quit the town, And to the rural hamlets fly; Behold! the wintry storms are gone: A gentle radiance glads the sky,

The birds awake, the flowers appear, Earth spreads a verdant couch for thee; 'Tis joy and music all we hear,

'Tis love and beauty all we see.

Come, let us mark the gradual spring, How peeps the bud, the blossom blows; Till Philomel begins to sing,

And perfect May to swell the rose.

E'en so thy rising charms improve,

As life's warm season grows more bright; And opening to the sighs of love, Thy beauties glow with full delight.

TO AMANDA.

UNLESS with my Amanda bless'd,

In vain I twine the woodbine bower;

This song was obligingly contributed to this edition by William Henry, present Lord Lyttelton, from a copy in Thomson's own hand, and is printed for the first time.