Page 124 (1/2)

'Must those sweet days return no more?

Must I for aye your loss deplore,

Banished your heart, and from your favour driven?

Ah! no; My fears that s eyes

Declare ain beloved, esteemed, carest,

Cupid shall in thine arms be prest,

Sport on thy knees, or on thy bosoe-struck heart shall war shall here once olden hue

He s from his pinion drew;

This to the Poet's hand the Boy coht before Anacreon's eyes

The fairest dreams of fancy rise,

And round his favoured head wild inspiration flits

His bosoic lyre;

Swift o'er the tuneful chords his fingers

Sweeps the too-long-neglected string,

While soft Anacreon sings the power and praise of Love

Soon as that na floods

Broke their cold chains, and Winter fled away

Once more the earth was deckt with flowers;

Mild Zephyrs breathed through bloolorious

Sun, and poured the blaze of day

Attracted by the harmonious sound,

Sylvans and Fauns the Cot surround,

And curious crowd the Minstrel to behold: