John Cunningham (Джон Каннингем)

Fanny of the Dell

Let the declining damask rose
With envious grief look pale;
The summer bloom more freely glows
In Fanny of the dale.

Is there a sweet that decks the field,
Or scents the morning gale,
Can such a vernal fragrance yield—
As Fanny of the dale?

The painted belles, at court rever'd,
Look lifeless, cold, and stale:
How faint their beauties, when compar'd
With Fanny of the dale!

The willows bind Pastora's brows.
Her fond advances fail;
For Damon pays his warmest vows
To Fanny of the dale.

Might honest truth, at last, succeed,
And artless love prevail;
Thrice happy con'd he tune his reed,
With Fanny of the dale!

1. Palemon
2. On a Certain Alderman
3. On Gold
4. A Man to My Mind
5. Clarinda

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Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1709

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