And sorrow heaves the heart-felt sigh?
The glorious sun puts on in vain
His richest robes, and gilds the day;
Sad melancholy’s sable reign,
Prevailing, blots his brightest ray.
With roses crown’d, the blushing spring
To every new-born joy invites;
Delia more balmy sweets could bring,
For her I pine amidst delights.
When Summer radiance paints the skies,