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Updated: May 23, 2025
For like that nameless riv'let stealing by, Your modest verse to musing quiet dear Is rich with tints heaven-borrow'd, the charm'd eye Shall gaze undazzled there, and love the soften'd sky.
Here blooms the lily; there the fragrant rose; Here spouts a fountain; there a riv'let flows; From every spray the liquid manna trills, And honey from the softening bark distills. Again the strange the pleasing sound he hears, Of plaints and music mingling in his ears; Yet naught appears that mortal voice can frame. Nor harp, nor timbrel, whence the music came."
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