Classic Poem

See! Summer comes with Roses crown'd,
Exulting o'er th' enamell'd Ground!
Now longer Suns and warmer Skies
Bid Nature in Perfection rise:
The fruitful Trees that erst were seen,
Gay-decked in Livery of Green,
Chequer'd with Blossoms now appear,
The beauteous Promise of the Year.
Ere yet Aurora chase the Dews,
The Lark his matin Song renews;
And seems to chide the Swain's Delay,
To lose so sweet a Part of Day.
The Village Maids, whose Toils dispense
The Joys of Health and Innocence,
In cheerful Crowds now seek the Fields,
To reap the Harvest Summer yields.
While Nature so delightful reigns,
Luxuriant thus o'er Hills and Plains,
Ye whom a more indulgent Fate
Has plac'd amongst the good and great,
Quick to your Villas hasten down,
What Joys within the smoky Town?
Down ev'ry Vale, and ev'ry Hill
Or winds the sweetly gurgling Rill,
Or spreads the fragrant-breathing Flow'r,
Or forms th' impenetrable Bow'r.
Hark! how the feather'd Choir complain,
Each in a variegated Strain!
Some wanton, hop from Spray to Spray,
Enchanting in a sprightly Lay;
Others, whose Young, (their only Joy,)
Have perish'd by some cruel Boy,
Of all their Hopes at once betray'd,
Fly to some solitary Shade,
There breathe (poor Birds) the tender Throe,
And charm us with melodious Woe.
Man may, in Scenes of ev'ry kind,
Fit Lessons of Instruction find:
The Bird for Injury and Wrong,
Repays th' Oppressor with a Song;
Oh! blush to think that Heav'n-inspir'd
Thy Breast shou'd be with Malice fir'd!
Learn, hence, thy Passion to restrain;
And still that god-like Rule maintain,
To seek no Vengeance on a Foe,
But bless the Hand, that gives the Blow.