Sweet bird, that shun the noise of folly, most musical, most melancholy!

Good, the more communicated, more abundant grows.

Must I thus leave thee, Paradise?-thus leave Thee, native soil, these happy walks and shades?

The rising world of waters dark and deep.

But peaceful was the night Wherein the Prince of Light His reign of peace upon the earth began.

She what was honour knew, And with obsequious majesty approv'd My pleaded reason. To the nuptial bower I led her blushing like the morn; all heaven And happy constellations on that hour Shed their selectest influence; the earth Gave sign of gratulation, and each hill; Joyous the birds; fresh gales and gentle airs Whisper'd it to the woods, and from their wings Flung rose, flung odours from the spicy shrub.

Such sober certainty of waking bliss.