Would you from toil and labor flee, Oh float ye out on this wonderful sea, From islands of spice the zephyrs blow, Swaying the galleys to and fro; Silken sails and a balmy breeze Shall waft you unto a perfect ease.

And Syracuse with pensive mien, In solitary pride, Like an untamed, but throneless queen, Crouched by the lucent tide; With honeyed thyme still Hybla teemed, Its scent each zephyr bore, And Arethusa's fountain gleamed Pellucid as of yore.

Night winds sigh a mournful requiem, and gentle zephyrs fan the leaves of the weeping willow, and murmur among its branches.. Two white marble slabs stand at the head of the little heaped up mound, and point to the traveller's eye the place where rest the remains of the angel cousins.

Ye zephyrs gay, that fan the air, And wanton through the grove, Oh, whisper to my charming fair, I'd die for her I love!

The morn awakes, and wide extends her rays, On ev'ry leaf the gentle zephyr plays.

Those fruits, nor winter's cold nor summer's heat Fear ever, fail not, wither not, but hang Perennial, while unceasing zephyr breathes Gently on all, enlarging these, and those Maturing genial; in an endless course.

* The brooklet branching from the silver Trent, The whispering birch by every zephyr bent, The woody island and the naked mead, The lowly hut half hid in groves of reed, The rural wicket and the rural stile, And frequent interspersed the woodman's pile.