Роберт Блумфилд (Robert Bloomfield)

The Milk Maid on the First of May

Hail, MAY! lovely MAY! how replenish'd my pails!
  The young Dawn overspreads the East streak'd with gold!
My glad heart beats time to the laugh of the Vales,
  And COLIN'S voice rings through the woods from the fold.

The Wood to the Mountain submissively bends,
  Whose blue misty summits first glow with the sun!
See thence a gay train by the wild rill descends
  To join the glad sports:... hark! the tumult's begun.

Be cloudless, ye skies!... Be my Colin but there,
  Not the dew-spangled bents on the wide level Dale,
Nor Morning's first blush can more lovely appear
  Than his looks, since my wishes I could not conceal.

Swift down the mad dance, while blest health prompts to move,
  We'll count joys to come, and exchange Vows of truth;
And haply when Age cools the transports of Love,
  Decry, like good folks, the vain pleasures of youth.

No, no; the remembrance shall ever be dear!
  At no time LOVE with INNOCENCE ceases to charm:
It is transport in Youth ... and it smiles through the tear,
  When they feel, in their children, its first soft alarm.

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