Hail Devon! while through the lov'd woods I stray,
O! let me loudly pour the grateful lay!
Tell each luxuriant bank where violets grow,
Each mazy vale, where fragrant woodbines wind,
How much of their bewitching charms they owe
To the sweet peace which fills my happy mind.
Ah! where again will it such pleasures find?
O, lov'd society! the heartfelt lay
Is all the humble Muse can now bestow;
Thy praises still I sing, as on I stray,
Writ in my heart amid each strain they flow.