10
Why farther strive, o'er Alpine heights to rise,
To win, what here is won, the laureate prize?
Behold what myriads rush and claim the ground!
Their lyres new strung, their brows with chaplets crown'd.
Here tott'ring age and jocund youth repair,
Here flock, in num'rous bands, the gentle fair;
Here, glitt'ring rank and low-born labour join,
And, side by side, peal forth the echoing line.
In artless mood, no nurse or tutor near,
E'en childhood lisps spontaneous numbers here.
Whene'er you list, fresh voices rend the air,
Where'er you turn, a choral crowd is there.
The Heav'n, the Rocks, the waving Groves reply;
'Tis one grand orchestra of varied minstrelsy.
To win, what here is won, the laureate prize?
Behold what myriads rush and claim the ground!
Their lyres new strung, their brows with chaplets crown'd.
Here tott'ring age and jocund youth repair,
Here flock, in num'rous bands, the gentle fair;
Here, glitt'ring rank and low-born labour join,
And, side by side, peal forth the echoing line.
In artless mood, no nurse or tutor near,
E'en childhood lisps spontaneous numbers here.
Whene'er you list, fresh voices rend the air,
Where'er you turn, a choral crowd is there.
The Heav'n, the Rocks, the waving Groves reply;
'Tis one grand orchestra of varied minstrelsy.
