65
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Now, while the solemn evening Shadows sail
On red slow-waving pinions down the vale,
How pleasant near the tranquil lake to stray,
Where winds the road along a secret bay;
By rills that tumble down the woody steeps,
And run in transport to the dimpling deeps;
Along the "wild meandering shore" to view,
Obsequious Grace the winding swan pursue.
He swells his lifted chest, and backward flings
His bridling neck between his towering wings;
In all the majesty of ease divides,
And glorying looks around, the silent tides:
On as he floats, the silvered waters glow,
Proud of the varying arch and moveless form of snow.
While tender Cares and mild domestic Loves
With furtive watch pursue her as she moves;
The Female with a meeker charm succeeds,
And her brown Little-ones around her leads,
Nibbling the water-lilies as they pass,
