SONG.

THROUGH spring-time walks, with flowers perfum'd,
 I chas'd a wild capricious fair,
 Where hyacinths and jonquils bloom'd,
 Chanting gay sonnets through the air:
 Hid amid a briary dell,
 Or 'neath a hawthorn tree,
 Her sweet enchantments led me on,
 And still deluded me. 

While summer's splendent glory smiles
 My ardent love in vain essay'd,
 I strove to win her heart by wiles,
 But still a thousand pranks she play'd;
 Still o'er each sun-burnt furzy hill,
 Wild, playful, gay, and free,
 She laugh'd and scorn'd, I chas'd her still,
 And still she banter'd me. 

When autumn waves her golden ears,
 And wafts o'er fruits her pregnant breath,
 The sprightly lark its pinions rears,
 I chas'd her o'er the daisy'd heath;
 Sweet hare-bells trembled in the vale,
 And all around was glee;
 Still, wanton as the timid hart,
 She swiftly flew from me. 

Now winter lights its chearful fire,
 While jests with frolic mirth resound,
 And draws the wand'ring beauty nigher,
 'Tis now too cold to rove around:
 The Christmas game, the playful dance,
 Incline her heart to glee,
 Mutual we glow, and kindling love
 Draws every wish to me.