Returning now to Thames's flowery side,
See how his waves in still attention glide!
And, hark! what songstress shakes her warbling throat?
Is it the nightingale, or Delia's note?
The balmy zephyrs, hovering o'er the fair,
On their soft wings the vocal accents bear;
Thro' Sunbury's low vale the strains rebound,
Ev'n neighbouring Chertsey hears the chearful sound,
And wondering sees her Cowley's laurel'd shade
Transported listen to the tuneful maid.
O may those nymphs, whose pleasing power she sings,
Still o'er their suppliant wave their fostering wings!
O long may Health and soft-ey'd Peace impart
Bloom to her cheek, and rapture to her heart!
Beneath her roof the red-breast shall prolong,
Unchill'd by frosts, his tributary song;
For her the lark shall wake the dappled morn,
And linnet twitter from the blossom'd thorn.
Sing on, sweet maid! thy Spenser smiles to see
Kind Fancy shed her choicest gifts on thee,
And bids his Edwards, on the laurel spray
That shades his tomb, inscribe thy rural lay.