[Tea-Table Miscellany Contents]
To the Tune of, The happy clown.
–
IT was the charming month of May
When all the flow’rs were fresh and gay,
One morning by the break of day,
Sweet Chloe, chaste and fair,
–
From peaceful slumber she arose,
Girt on her mantle and her hose,
And o’er the flowry mead she goes,
To breath a purer air.
–
Her looks so sweet, so gay her mein,
Her handsome shape and dress so clean,
She lookt all o’er like beauties queen,
Drest in her best aray.
–
The gentle winds, and purling stream
Essay’d to whisper Chloe’s name,
The savage beasts till then ne’er tame,
Wild adoration pay.
–
The feather’d people one might see,
Parch’d all around her on a tree,
With notes of sweetest melody
They act a cheerful part.
–
The dull slaves on the toilsome plow,
Their wearied necks and knees do bow,
A glad subjection there they vow,
Το pay with all their heart.
–
The bleating flocks that then came by,
Soon as the charming nymph they spy,
They leave their hoarse and ruful cry,
And dance around the brooks.
–
The woods are glad, the meadows smile,
And Forth that foam’d, and roar’d ere while,
Glides calmly down as smooth as oil,
Thro’ all its charming crooks.
–
The finny squadrons are content,
To leave their wat’ry element,
In glazie numbers down they bent,
They flutter all along.
–
The insects, and each creeping thing,
Join’d to make up the rural ring,
All frisk and dance, if she but sing,
And make a jovial throng.
–
Kind Phœbus now began to rise,
And paint with red the eastern skies,
Struck with the glory of her eyes,
He shrinks behind a cloud.
–
Her mantle on a bough she lays,
And all her glory she displays,
She left all nature in amaze,
And skip’d into the wood.
– Authors Unknown.
