Page:The works of Anna Laetitia Barbauld volume 1.djvu/156

72 And where the Tweed's pure current glides, Or Liffy rolls her limpid tides ; Or Thames his oozy waters leads Through rural bowers or yellow meads,— With many an old romantic tale Has cheered the lone sequestered vale; With many a sweet and tender lay Deceived the tiresome summer day. ’Tis yours to cull with happy art Each meaning verse that speaks the heart; And fair arrayed, in order meet, To lay the wreath at Beauty's feet.