For Plymouth Sound must be regain’d ere night.
Through fragrant bow’rs, on, on the chariot hies;
Affrights, perchance, the timid hare;
Entraps the rabbit in the snare;
Sends high aloft the squirrel, too;
The pheasant, to its instinct true,
Spreads his fair sails, and to the azure flies.
“Ah!” some will say, “give me the open sea,
A ‘mackerel sky,’ a gentle breeze—
Much preferable to rocks and trees,