In plains and groves, on hills and dales,

Where fragrant air breathes sweetest gales.

There shall you have the beauteous pine,

The cedar, and the spreading vine;

And all the woods to be a screen,

Lest Phœbus kiss my Summer's Queen.

The seat for your disport shall be

Over some river in a tree,

Where silver sands and pebbles sing

Eternal ditties to the spring.