HYMN VI.
To the Nightingale.
E very night, from even till morn,
L ove's Chorister amid the thorn,
I s now so sweet a singer!
S o sweet, as for her Song, I scorn
A pollo's voice and finger.
B ut, Nightingale! sith you delight
E ver to watch the starry night,
T ell all the stars of heaven!
H eaven never had a star so bright
A s now to earth is given!
R oyal Astræa makes our day
E ternal, with her beams! nor may
G ross darkness overcome her!
I now perceive, why some do write,
"N o country hath so short a night
A s England hath in summer."