When gay Hygea used to frown,
And chain my rising wishes down;
When she beyond yon hill would stray,
And leave my sight a length of way;
Then thou wouldst come, and with a smile
Half charm the weary hour the while,
Drawing a landscape sweet and fair
That mingl'd with the softest air,
And painted Days of other hue,
And Evenings spangl'd o'er with dew,
And Hours that, laughing as they trode,
Left a flower-circle on the sod.