Like notes of birds that after showers
In April concert try their powers,
And with a tumult and a rout
Of warbling, force coy Phœbus out;
Or bid some dark cloud's bosom show
That form divine, the many-coloured Bow.
E'en so the thrillings of the Lyre
Prevail to further our desire,
While to these shades a Nymph I call.
The youngest of the lovely three;
With glowing cheeks from pastimes virginal
Behold her hastening to the tents
Of Nature, and the lonely elements!
And as if wishful to disarm
Or to repay the tuneful charm
She bears the stringed lute of old Romance,—Ed.
[529] Dora Wordsworth.—Ed.
[530] 1836.
... a Nymph I call,
The youngest of the lovely Three.—
"Come, if the notes thine ear may pierce,
Submissive to the might of verse,
By none ... 1820.
[531] 1836.
And ... 1829.
[532] 1836.
How light her air!... 1829.
[533] Compare L'Allegro, ll. 11-13—
Thou Goddess fair and free
In heaven yclept Euphrosyne,
And by men heart-easing Mirth.—Ed.