With lovelier pomp along the grassy plain
The silver PHEASANT draws his shining train;
On India's painted shore, by Ganges' stream,
He spreads his plumage to the sunny gleam:
But when the wiry net his flight confines,
He lowers his purple crest, and inly pines;
The beauteous captive hangs his ruffled wing
Oppress'd by bondage, and our chilly spring.
To claim the verse, unnumber'd tribes appear
That swell the music of the vernal year:
Seiz'd with the spirit of the kindly spring
They tune the voice, and sleek the glossy wing:
With emulative strife the notes prolong
And pour out all their little souls in song.
When winter bites upon the naked plain,
Nor food nor shelter in the groves remain,
By instinct led, a firm united band,
As marshall'd by some skilful general's hand,
The congregated nations wing their way
In dusky columns o'er the trackless sea;
In clouds unnumber'd annual hover o'er
The craggy Bass, or Kilda's utmost shore:
Thence spread their sails to meet the southern wind,
And leave the gathering tempest far behind;
Pursue the circling sun's indulgent ray,
Course the swift seasons, and o'ertake the day.