The Eclogues

A Muse began, and bid ye rise, While all creation glows, So bear the World from whence we sigh, To newly revel’d roads.

Expressing softly in thy hand, Thrice golden seed you raise: But writing leaves in deft command Must conquer dark’ning rays.

With each has turn’d upon their bed, And saw sweet pride take flight; While life returns from Nature’s thread, As embers sweet delight.

And lo! exulting with our ties, We dare those silent woods, When hand in hand the choral cries, Unveil our blissful moods.

For all this view should meet your time, To every touch so true; When down the tide of Nature’s rhyme Our fancies flow anew!

• Robert Southey