538. Song—Now Spring has clad the grove in green

NOW spring has clad the grove in green, And strew’d the lea wi’ flowers; The furrow’d, waving corn is seen Rejoice in fostering showers. While ilka thing in nature join Their sorrows to forego, O why thus all alone are mine The weary steps o’ woe! The trout in yonder wimpling burn That glides, a silver dart, And, safe beneath the shady thorn, Defies the angler’s art— My life was ance that careless stream, That wanton trout was I; But Love, wi’ unrelenting beam, Has scorch’d my fountains dry.…