56 ODE ON A DISTANT PROSPECT

Ah happy hills! ah pleasing shade!
Ah fields belov'd in van!
Where once my careles's childhood ftray'd,
A ftranger yet to pain!
I feel, the gales that from ye blow,
A momentary blifs beftow,
As waving freash their gladfome wing,
My weary foul they seem to foot,
And, redolent of joy and youth,
To breathe a fecond fpring.

Say, Father THAMES, for thou haft feen
Full many a fprightly race
Disporting on thy margent green
The paths of pleafure trace;
Who foremoft now delight to cleave,
With pliant arms, thy glaffy wave ?

The

56 ODE ON A DISTANT PROSPECT

Ah happy hills! ah pleasing shade!
Ah fields below'd in van!
Where once my careles childhood flray'd,
A stranger yet to pain!
I feel, the gales that from ye blow,
A momentary blifs beflow,
As waving freth their gladfome wing,
My weary foul they seem to footh,
And, redolent of joy and youth,
To breathe a second spring.

Say, Father THAMES, for thou haft feen
Full many a fprightly race
Difporting on thy margent green
The paths of pleafure trace;
Who foremost now delight to cleave,
With pliant arms, thy glaffy wave ?

The

B1992.8.11(8) ba- obj- 3602 -0002

Yale Center for British Art, 2010