XCII.

Now sport, for thou art free! the bright birds chasing, Whose wings waft star-like gleams from tree to tree; Or with the fawn, thy swift wood-playmate, racing, Sport on, my joyous child! for thou art free! Yes, on that day I took thee to my heart, And inly vow’d, for thee a better part To choose; that so thy sunny bursts of glee Should wake no more dim thoughts of far-seen woe, But, gladdening fearless eyes, flow on--as now they flow.