THE American Mock-Bird, OR SONGSTER's DELIGHT, SONG CCXIX

I Search'd the Fields of ev'ry Kind, The fairest Flow'r I chose, And sent them in a Wreath to bind My Rosalinda's Brow, My Rosalinda's Brow.

Here Hyacinthus ting'd with Blood, In purple Beauty glows, There bursting from the swelling Bud, Appears the blushing Rose, Appears the blushing Rose.

Here Violets of purple Hue, Chaste Lillies white as Snow; Narcissuses that drink the Dew, And near the Fountain blow. And near the Fountain blow.

To boast thy Charms when crown'd with those, Cease, cease O beauteous Maid, Thy Face that blooms so like the Rose, Like that, alas! will fade, Like that, alas! will fade.