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Updated: May 9, 2025
Lull'd by the lapse of gliding floods, Cheer'd by the warbling of the woods, How blest my days, my thoughts how free, In sweet society with thee! Then all was joyous, all was young, And years, unheeded, roll'd along; But now the pleasing dream is o'er, These scenes must charm me now no more. Lost to the field and torn from you, Farewell! a long, a last adieu.
Look how he tempteth thee with is decoy, That he may rob thee of thy life, thy joy. Come, pr'ythee bird, I pr'ythee come away, Why should this net thee take, when 'scape thou may? Hadst thou not wings, or were thy feathers pull'd, Or wast thou blind, or fast asleep wer't lull'd, The case would somewhat alter, but for thee, Thy eyes are ope, and thou hast wings to flee.
Emily, listening with surprise and attention, distinguished the following invocation delivered in the pure and elegant tongue of Tuscany, and accompanied by a few pastoral instruments. O nymph! who loves to float on the green wave, When Neptune sleeps beneath the moon-light hour, Lull'd by the music's melancholy pow'r, O nymph, arise from out thy pearly cave!
From the high host Of stars, to the lull'd lake and mountain coast, All is concentr'd in a life intense, Where not a beam, nor air, nor leaf is lost, But hath a part of being, and a sense Of that which is of all Creator and defence."
"Why rather, Sleep, liest thou in smoky cribs, Upon uneasy pallets stretching thee, And hush'd with buzzing night-flies to thy slumber, Than in the perfumed chambers of the great, Under the canopies of costly state, And lull'd with sounds of sweetest melody?"
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