Autumn

Autumn it was when droop'd the sweetest flow'rs, And rivers, swoll'n with pride, o'erlook'd the banks; Poor grew the day of summer's golden hours, And void of sap stood Ida's cedar-ranks. 4The pleasant meadows sadly lay 5In chill and cooling sweats 4By rising fountains, or as they 5Fear'd winter's wastfull threats. The Shepherd's Pipe.