Song ("The morn was fair, and Phoebus peept")

The morn was fair, and Phoebus peept
O'er the blue mountains head,
While in his cavern Boreas slept,
And Morpheus fled the mead.

The cowslips op'd their velvet leaves,
And incens'd ev'ry vale,
Whilst Cupid wanton'd on the trees,
Rock'd by some gentle gale.

Young Celon came by four o'clock,
To meet his lovely fair,
Neglecting all his tender flock,
That once was all his care.

With plaintive notes he lull'd the grove,
Till Eddie trod the plain;
But soon as he beheld his love,
He chang'd his mournful strain.

Like Flora's handmaid, deck'd in green,
The smiling fair appear'd,
Her countenance was all serene,
At once belov'd and fear'd.

With Love and Joy, fix'd on each face,
They rambl'd blithe and gay,
And with a mutual fond embrace,
They fix'd their wedding-day.

The smiling maids and jolly swains,
Donn'd in their best array,
Came trudging o'er the verdant plains,
And made a holiday.

In rustic dance and merry song,
None car'd to be outdone;
The swains they wrestl'd all day long,
And gambol'd down the sun.