By the side of a grove, at the foot of a hill,
Where whisper'd the beech, and where murmur'd the rill,
I vow'd to the Muses my time and my care,
Since neither could win me the smiles of my fair.
Free I ranged like the birds, like the birds free I sung,
And Delia's loved name scarce escaped from my tongue;
But if once a smooth accent delighted my ear,
I should wish, unawares, that my Delia might hear.
With fairest ideas my bosom I stored,
Allusive to none but the nymph I adored;
And the more I, with study, my fancy refined,
The deeper impression she made on my mind.
So long as of Nature the charms I pursue,
I still must my Delia's dear image renew;
The Graces have yielded with Delia to rove,
And the Muses are all in alliance with Love.
