Low sullen sounds his grief beguiled
A solemn, strange, and mingled air;
’Twas sad by fits, by starts ’twas wild.
* * * * *
But oh! how altered was its sprightly tone,
When Cheerfulness, a nymph of healthiest hue,
Her bow across her shoulder flung,
Her buskins gemmed with morning dew,
Blew an inspiring air, that dale and thicket rung,
The hunter’s call, to Fawn and Dryad known;