A WISH. 1782. MINE be a cot beside the hill; A bee-hive's hum shall soothe my ear; The swallow, oft, beneath my thatch, Around my ivy'd porch shall spring In russet gown and apron blue. The village-church, among the trees, Where first our marriage-vows were given, With merry peals shall swell the breeze, And point with taper spire to heaven. TO THE GNAT. WHEN by the green-wood side, at summer eve, -Ah now thy barbed shaft, relentless fly, No guardian sylph, in golden panoply, Lifts the broad shield, and points the glittering spear. Now near and nearer rush thy whirring wings, Thy dragon-scales still wet with human gore. AN EPITAPH ON A ROBIN-REDBREAST.* TREAD lightly here, for here, 'tis said, * Inscribed on an urn in the flower-garden at Hafod. 28 AN ITALIAN SONG, 1782. DEAR is my little native vale, The ring-dove builds and murmurs there; Close by my cot she tells her tale To every passing villager. The squirrel leaps from tree to tree, And shells his nuts at liberty. In orange-groves and myrtle-bowers, With my loved lute's romantic sound; The shepherd's horn at break of day, Sung in the silent green-wood shade ; |