The squirrel leaps from tree to tree, In orange-groves and myrtle-bowers, The shepherd's horn at break of day, LL THE Sun-beams streak the azure skies, And line with light the mountain's brow: With hounds and horns the hunters rise, And chase the roebuck thro' the snow. From rock to rock, with giant-bound, High on their iron poles they pass; Mute, lest the air, convulsed by sound, Rend from above a frozen mass. The goats wind slow their wonted way, Up craggy steeps and ridges rude; Marked by the wild wolf for his prey, From desert cave or hanging wood. And while the torrent thunders loud, TO THE GNAT. WHEN by the green-wood side, at summer eve, And fairy-scenes, that Fancy loves to weave, Lifts the broad shield, and points the glittering spear. |