BENEATH yon snubby oak's extended shade
Safe let me hide me from the eye of day;
Nor shall the dog-star this retreat invade,
As thro' the heavens he speeds his burning way:
The sultry lion rages for his prey.
Ah Phoebus, quench thy wild destroying fire,
Each flower, each shrub doth sink beneath thy ray,
Save the fresh laurel, that shall ne'er expire.
The leaves that crown a bard may brave celestial ire.