The LINNET

As passing by a wood and grove, I heard a linnet fing; Its sweetly plaintive voice of love, Proclaim'd the vernal spring.

His pretty accents seem'd to flow, As if he knew no pain; His downy throat he tun'd so sweet, I echoed o'er the plain.

Ah! happy warbler I replied, Contented thus to be, 'Tis only harmony and love Can be compared to thee,

Thus perched upon the yew, ye stand, The monarch of the shade, And ever sip ambrosial sweets, That grows from ev'ry glade.

Did man possess but half thy bliss, How joyful might he be; But man was never form'd for this, 'Tis only joys for thee.

Then farewell pretty bird I said, Pursue thy plaintive tale; And let thy tuneful accents spread, All o'er the fragrant vale.