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Rh So I was whipp'd and sent to bed, That the rest might learn to fear, And duly keep the good dame's rules For the sequel of the year; And chase no more gay butterflies, Or their little wings to tear: Still! 'tis my delight, when the sun shines bright, In the season of the year.

 

, that on rapid wing Sweep'st along in sportive ring, Here and there, and low and high, Chasing keen the painted fly; Swallow, let me fly with thee.

First from England's southern shore 'Cross the Channel we would soar; Then with daring flight advance To the plains of uprightly France:— Swallow, let me fly with thee.

Where on verdant banks of Loire Playful sport the feather'd choir, Or where Bourdeaux skirts the side Of Garonne's majestic tide, I would skim away with thee.

Next o'er tow'ring Pyrenees, Myrtb groves and orange-trees, To the hilly wild domain, Where are fed the flocks of Spain, I would skim away with thee. 