Gave richest perfumes to the air,
Which the gay flowers had lent to them,
All scatter’d from the unequal stem.
The nightingale had bathed his wing
Beneath the neighbouring murmuring spring;
And birds, and flowers, and streamlets gay,
Seem’d to salute the new-born day;
And in requital of the light,
Their grateful harmony unite.
The sun was bright, the sky serene,