CANTA T A, By METASTASIO. I. O the fide of yon green-mantled hill, To the grove, or the daisy-pied mead, To the banks of yon cryftalline rill, My fold's fleecy treasure I'll lead. II. Hand in hand with my Phyllis I'll tread III. Whenever cool zephyrs invite My Fair-one and me to a cell, In that happy feat of delight. Shall Joy, Love, and Innocence dwell. A DESCRIZIONE DELLA CAVERN A DEL SON NO. Di LODOVICO ARIOSTO. IACE in Arabia una valletta amena, GIA Lontana da cittadi, e da villagi, Ch' all'ombra di duo monti è tutta piena Il fole indarno il chiaro dì vi mena, Si' gli è la via da folti rami tronca: E quivi entra fotterra una spelonca. Sotto A DECSRIPTION OF SOM NU S's CAVER N. By ARIOSTO. AR in a wild, for rural quiet made, FAR Nor town nor hamlet near, a valley lies: Amid the fidelong hill's projected shade, Unnumber'd foreft-oaks gigantic rise. Here let the fun his fierceft influence shed, Deep Sotto la nera felva, una capace Che non può andare, e mal fi regge in piede. Il Silenzio và intorno, e fà la scorta, Che non debbian venir cenna con mano. CAN Deep in the gloom of this sequester'd scene, With many a wanton tendril loves to stray. For fcarce will his weak knees bear up his tumbling load. Oblivion, with her blank-ey'd ideot ftare, Lolls at the gate; nor owns her nearest friends: No meffage will she take, or answer bear: But all who come alike adrift she fends. Creeping around, and lift'ning, Silence pries; In weeds bedight, and noiseless wool yfhod: To ev'ry wight she meets, access denies, With many a waving hand, and frowning nod. |