THE CHARMS of MELODY, SONG 88

Would you taste the noon-tide air, To you fragrant bow'r repair, Where woven with the poplar bough, The mantling vine will shelter you. The mantling vine will shelter you. Down each side a fountain flows, Tinkling, murm'ring, as it goes, Lightly o'er the mossy ground, Lightly o'er the mossy ground, Sultry Phoebus scorching round, Sultry Phaebus scorching round.

Round, the languid herds and sheep, Stretch'd on funny hillocks sleep— While on the hyacinth and rose, The fair does all alone repose— The fair does all alone repose— All alone—yet in her arms Your breast shall beat to love's alarms— Till, blest and blessing, you shall own, The joys of love are joys alone, The joys of love are joys alone.