AIR. (And first the horn, whose mellow sound)

And first the horn, whose mellow sound, Wakes Echo in the hollow rocks, To inspire the fleet, sagacious hound Where to un-earth the subtle fox.

The flageolet shall imitate The feathered songster, by his mate, Sequestered in the conscious grove, Impervious to all eyes but Love.

And now, as the lorn nightingale Mourns, sadly, in the pensive vale, Day's labour at an end, Rustics the winding dance shall lead, To the cadence of Euterpe's reed, And mirth with sadness blend.