Page:The Poems of John Dyer (1903).djvu/69

 And all the fabled Dryades in dance: Leering they bound along, with laughing air, To the shrill pipe, and deep remurm'ring-cords Of th' ancient harp, or tabor's hollow sound. While th' old apart, upon a bank reclin'd, Attend the tuneful carol, softly mix'd With every murmur of the sliding wave, And every warble of the feather'd choir, Music of Paradise! which still is heard When the heart listens, still the views appear Of the first happy garden, when Content To Nature's flowery scenes directs the sight. Yet we abandon those Elysian walks, Then idly for the lost delight repine; As greedy mariners, whose desp'rate sails Skim o'er the billows of the foamy flood, Fancy they see the lessening shores retire, And sigh a farewell to the sinking hills. Could I recall those notes which once the Muse Heard at a shearing, near the woody sides Of blue-topp'd Wreakin! Yet the carols sweet Thro' the deep maze of the memorial cell Faintly remurmur. First arose in song Hoar-headed Damon, venerable Swain! The soothest shepherd of the flow'ry vale, "This is no vulgar scene; no palace roof Was e'er so lofty, nor so nobly rise Their polish'd pillars as these aged oaks, Which o'er our Fleecy wealth and harmless sports Thus have expanded wide their shelt'ring arms Thrice told an hundred summers. Sweet Content, Ye gentle shepherds! pillow us at night." "Yes, tuneful Damon, for our cares are short, Rising and falling with the cheerful day," Colin reply'd; "and pleasing weariness