Dryden’s “Flower and Leaf.”
As when the months are clad in flowery green,
Sad Philomel, in bowery shades unseen,
To vernal airs attunes her varied strains,
And Itylus sound warbling o’er the plains.
Young Itylus! his parent’s darling joy,
Whom chance misled the mother to destroy,
Now doom’d a wakeful bird to wail the beauteous boy.
So in nocturnal solitude forlorn,
A sad variety of woes I mourn.