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Rh Where those happy peacocks dance, And the silver streamlets glance, And the clouds, enamoured, rest, Like a crown, upon the crest Of that hill that fainting lay 'Neath the burning summer ray. While the freshening streams they shed Glorify his woody head. Bees, that round the lily throng, Soothe us with their drowsy song; Towards the lotus-bed they fly; But the peacock, dancing by. Spreads abroad his train so fair. That they cling, deluded, there. Oh, that breeze! his breath how cool! He has fanned the shady pool: He has danced with bending flowers, And kissed them in the jasmine bowers; Every sweetest plant has lent All the riches of its scent, And the cloud who loves him flings Cooling drops upon his wings.