How lovely looks the gay, the smiling land, She said; while through the scattering cloud appears The blue sky, dissipating all our fears. The clouds, as through the air they quickly pass, Hurry their shadows o'er the glist'ning grass. See, Damon, now, o'er yonder hill they throw Their shade o'er herds and cottages, and lo! They're flown, and while o'er flowery meads they run, The hill's again illumin'd by the sun.
The rainbow view, from hill to hill expand, Its radiant arches o'er the laughing land; 'Midst the grey cloud, a happy omen shows; With peace and safety every colour glows: The quiet valley smiles beneath its beams, And owns its beauties in her gliding streams. Daphne with gentle arm embrac'd her swain; And cried;
See balmy zephyrs breathe again; More cheerful with the flowers they sport and play, Dress'd by the drops of rain and light of day. The butterflies, in richest coats array'd, And fluttering insects joy to leave the shade, Their velvet wings in quick vibrations shake, While on the surface of the neighbouring lake, Of shrubs and willows, wash'd from every stain, The trembling branches glitter once again; Again the peasant in its bosom sees The heaven's blue concave and the spreading trees.
Daphne, embrace me with thy circling arms, What sacred joy my swelling bosom warms, Where'er we turn what glories meet our eyes, What unexhausted springs of rapture rise. From the least plant to the bright star of day, That kindles nature with its quickening ray, All, all, our admiration ought to raise, And tune our voices to the notes of praise! How my heart swells, when from yon mountain's brow, I view the spreading country stretch'd below. Or, when amid the grass, in rural ease, Laying my limbs beneath the branching trees, I contemplate the various flowers and plants, And their minutely fine inhabitants. Or when amid the solemn hours of night, I view the stars adorn the heavens with light; The grateful changes of the seasons trace, The progress of the vegetable race. When all these wonders thro' my senses roll, They fill with purest awe my swelling soul; Thoughts urge on thoughts in quick successive birth, Weeping, I kneel to him who made the earth; To him, my admiration I confess, Father of light, of life, of every bliss: Nought then my soul with equal joy can move, Save the delight to know my Daphne's love.