I. 1

Awake, Aeolian lyre, awake,

And give to rapture all thy trembling strings!

From Helicon's harmonious springs

A thousand rills their mazy progress take;

The laughing flowers that round them blow

Drink life and fragrance as they flow.

Now the rich stream of music winds along

Deep, majestic, smooth, and strong,

Through verdant vales and Ceres' golden reign:

Now rolling down the steep amain,

Headlong, impetuous, see it pour;

The rocks and nodding groves rebellow to the roar.

English Poets of the Eighteenth Century · 第 174 / 322 题