Classic Poem

I.

W HILE Sol with thee, dear Fountain, plays,
O stay and listen to thy Praise!
Then stealing soft with silver Flight,
Outshine the polish'd Crystal's beamy Light.

II.

Yon' sunny Mountain's richest Wine,
Shall mix his noble Juice with thine,
Each Bowl shall with those Flow'rs be crown'd
Whose Blossoms blow thy beauteous Banks around.

III.

The young Kid too that Flavia loves,
That harmless o'er her Grotto roves,
That Kid which her fair Fingers feed,
A spotless Victim to thy Stream shall bleed.

IV.

His budding Horns in Shoots appear,
The Promises of Love and War,
In vain! the Wanton's glowing Blood
With purple Streaks shall marble all the Flood.

V.

Thy Coolness chears the wither'd Plain,
And Sirius burns the Field in vain;
When Beasts in Moans, expressive, grieve,
Thy frigid Waves the pining Herds relieve.

VI.

Lambs dance around thy bubbling Urn,
And whiter from thy Flood return,
There Birds their feathery Beauties see,
And sing and dress their painted Plumes by Thee.

VII.

Look, how this Oak, itself a Grove,
Lifts high his hundred Arms above;
How thick the tufted Moss below,
Thro' which thy prattling Waters fall and flow!

VIII.

O Nymphs, tho' I unequal sing,
Yet thus adorn'd this humble Spring,
With noblest Fountains ranks its Name,
While You reign each a Naiad of the Stream.