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The sky-lark - National Library of Scotland

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52 THE SKY-LARK.<br />

<strong>The</strong> thirst that from my soul doth rise,<br />

Doth ask a drink divine,<br />

But might I <strong>of</strong> Jove's nectar sip,<br />

I would not change for thine.<br />

I sent thee late a rosy wreath,<br />

Not so much honouring thee,<br />

As giving it a hope that there<br />

It would not wither'd be.<br />

But thou thereon didst only breathe,<br />

And sent it back to me<br />

Since then it grows, and looks, and smells<br />

Not <strong>of</strong> itself, but thee.<br />

GLEE.—FORESTERS SOUND.<br />

Foresters sound the cheerful horn,<br />

Hark! to the woods away;<br />

Diana, with her nymphs this morn,<br />

Will hunt the stag to bay.<br />

At length return'd from healthful chase,<br />

Let Bacchus crown the day;<br />

While Venus, with seducing grace,<br />

Shall all our toil repay.<br />

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