“ O come, dearest Emma! the rose is full blown, And the riches of Flora are lavishly strown, The air is all softness, and crystal the streams, And the West is resplendently clothèd in beams. We will hasten, my fair, to the opening glades, The quaintly carved seats, and the freshening shades, Where the faeries are chanting their evening hymns, And in the last sunbeam the sylph lightly swims. ”
