Would pleas’d behold bright Phœbus rise,
And take his station in the skies.
While aromatic shrubs display
Their sweets beneath his brilliant ray,
And downy warblers soar aloft,
And hail the morn in accents soft;
I too would join the matin song,
While echo bore the strains along,
And distant hills should catch the sound,
And balmy zephyrs waft it round.