SONG LXX. INVITATION O SPRING.—Original

Again, thou rosy dimpled Maid return! And on the wings, of zephyrs borne, Come waft your genial gales; Scatter your fragrance all around, With flow'ry carpets spread the ground And dress our hills and dales.

And when we view, with gladsome eyes, Those various seenes which round us rise, How rapt'rous is the sight! May they call forth our praise and love To him who reigns supreme above, With wonder and delight.

He sends his blessings all around, With choicest gifts our days are crown'd And pleasures on us wait; Tho oft we see our wishes flown, And pleasing expectation gone, We count our mis'ry great.

What if we can't his meaning trace, Yet just and right are all his ways, And for improvement sent; Do not then murmur nor repine, But always bless the hand divine, And banish discontent.

Let virtue be our guide and friend, And prudence all our steps attend— Our faces light with smiles; No wint'ry clouds should lower there, But reigh sweet SPRING, thro'out the year, To sweeten all our toils.

When Summer comes in brighter blaze, And o'er our land Sol pours his rays, With his all conquering heat; May no infectious ills prevail, But health be wafted with each gale— Thus, grows our BLISS complete.