Page:Poems (Barbauld).djvu/46

36 Not the maid who crown'd with cypres &emsp;Sweeps along in cepter'd pall, And in ad and olemn accents &emsp;Mourns the creted hero's fall; But that other miling iter, &emsp;With the blue and laughing eye, Singing, in a lighter meaure, &emsp;Strains of woodland harmony:

All unknown to fame and glory, &emsp;Eay, blithe and debonair, Crown'd with flowers, her careles trees &emsp;Looely floating on the air.

Then, when next the tar of evening &emsp;Softly heds the ilent dew, Let me in this rutic temple, &emsp;! meet the Mue and you. The