Sappho and Phaon: Sonnet III

Turn to yon vale beneath, whose tangled shade
Excludes the blazing torch of noon-day light,
Where sportive fawns, and dimpled loves invite,
The bow'r of pleasure opens to the glade :
Lull'd by soft flutes, on leaves of violets laid,
There witching beauty greets the ravish'd sight,
More gentle than the arbitress of night
In all her silv'ry panoply array'd !
The birds breathe bliss ! light zephyrs kiss the ground,
Stealing the hyacinth's divine perfume ;
While from pellucid fountains glittering round,
Small tinkling rills bid rival flow'rets bloom !
Here, laughing Cupids bathe the bosom's wound;
There, tyrant passion finds a glorious tomb!