III.

Ayr, gurgling, kiss'd his pebbled shore, O'erhung with wild woods, thick'ning green; The fragrant birch, and hawthorn, hoar, Twin'd am'rous round the raptured scene; The flow'rs sprang wanton to be prest, The birds sang love on every spray-- Till too, too soon, the glowing west Proclaim'd the speed of winged day.