Young Agis one day at the foot of a Hill,

Where a streamlet ran murmur'ing along,

With inward joy mused on each trickling Rill,

Till it fain would have tempted his Song.

When high on the hazel, that hung o'er the stream,

A soft twitt'ring Bird did alight;

It sang so melodious, it anxious did seem,

To add to his pensive delight.

And straight to the spray that o'ershadow'd his Ear

The songster in transport then flew;

But when he would place to his bosom more near,

Sweet Robin then quickly withdrew.

Then the Echo that waits in the green woodland Vale,

To mock the lost joys of the swain;

So listen'd to all the sad moan in his Tale,

And told it o'er each distant Plain.

The wing'ed God of Love, on his Pinions appeared

To ease the fond Youth of his care:

And told this fair moral, which when he had heard,

Might teach him of Ills to beware.

“When the bliss of fond love shall awake up thy fire,

And Delia shall tender her Heart,

Ne'er let thy true Friendship in Coldness expire,

But hasten the Joy to impart.

For soon shall the flow'ret its beauty withdraw,

And thorns must succeed every Rose,

While Nature shall stamp o'er the World this fair Law

The lilly is sweet while it blows.”