Bright wings are glancing the free boughs among, 295
And bills of happy birds make one glad song!
It is the home of Taste; her wand has laid
A gentler beauty o’er the sylvan shade;
Bade the fair trees in richer masses grow,
With brighter hues the painted flowers glow; 300
No gilding strikes, no marbles court the eye,
But, rich alone in Nature’s symmetry,
To this retreat the fabled Nymphs repair,
And deem they find their long-lost Tempe there;