THE OASIS
O what mild ease these shadowy palms afford,—
The luscious figs, the palate tempting nuts,
The babbling rill, from whose unending source
Such cooling water gushes forth that it would quench
Ten thousand Stygian thirsts. What rarest joy!
What soft retreat is here! No flatt’ring court,
No vain and idle pomp beneath whose flow’ry hand
The vip’rous serpent creeps unseen!