AMYNTAS.
11
I hear it in the changes of his voice.
Listen, my Sylvia—now in short, timid accents,
He supplicates his mistress—but in vain;
Now he laments, and as he feels her rigour,
Breathes forth a lengthened, liquid, dying note
Oh! his complaint has won her: he concludes
In joyful flourishes, in strains of triumph.
'Tis love that animates his varied song;
He says in every note—"I love, I love."
Even the dark adder, at this social season,
Intent on love, forgets his baleful poison:
The fierceness of the tiger is subdued,
The lordly lion, king of beasts is humbled.
Why on the brute creation need I dwell?
The mighty power of love pervades the trees.
See how the amorous vines embrace their elms;
Beeches for beeches, rugged oaks for oaks
Express their inclination by their dress,
Their whispering rustle, and consenting wave.
Would'st thou then rank thyself below the plants,
Dead to the lively sentiments of love?
Listen, my Sylvia—now in short, timid accents,
He supplicates his mistress—but in vain;
Now he laments, and as he feels her rigour,
Breathes forth a lengthened, liquid, dying note
Oh! his complaint has won her: he concludes
In joyful flourishes, in strains of triumph.
'Tis love that animates his varied song;
He says in every note—"I love, I love."
Even the dark adder, at this social season,
Intent on love, forgets his baleful poison:
The fierceness of the tiger is subdued,
The lordly lion, king of beasts is humbled.
Why on the brute creation need I dwell?
The mighty power of love pervades the trees.
See how the amorous vines embrace their elms;
Beeches for beeches, rugged oaks for oaks
Express their inclination by their dress,
Their whispering rustle, and consenting wave.
Would'st thou then rank thyself below the plants,
Dead to the lively sentiments of love?
Shake
