A goldfinch there I saw with gaudy pride Of painted plumes, that hopped from side to side, Still pecking as she passed; and still she drew The sweets from every flower, and sucked the dew: Sufficed at length, she warbled in her throat, And tuned her voice to many a merry note, But indistinct, and neither sweet nor clear, Yet such as soothed my soul, and pleased my ear. Her short performance was no sooner tried, When she I sought, the nightingale, replied: So sweet, so shrill, so variously she sung, That the grove echoed, and the valleys rung; And I so ravished with her heavenly note, I stood entranced, and had no room for thought, But all o'er-powered with ecstasy of bliss, Was in a pleasing dream of paradise; At length I waked, and, looking round the bower, Searched every tree, and pryed on every flower, If any where by chance I might espy The rural poet of the melody; For still methought she sung not far away: At last I found her on a laurel spray. Close by my side she sate, and fair in sight, Full in a line, against her opposite; Where stood with eglantine the laurel twined, And both their native sweets were well conjoined. On the green bank I sat, and listened long; (Sitting was more convenient for the song:) Nor till her lay was ended could I move, But wished to dwell for ever in the grove. Only methought the time too swiftly passed, And every note I feared would be the last. My sight, and smell, and hearing, were employed, And all three senses in full gust enjoyed. And what alone did all the rest surpass, The sweet possession of the fairy place; Single and conscious to myself alone Of pleasures to the excluded world unknown; Pleasures which no where else were to be found, And all Elysium in a spot of ground. Thus while I sat intent to see and hear, And drew perfumes of more than vital air, All suddenly I heard the approaching sound Of vocal music, on the enchanted ground: An host of saints it seemed, so full the quire; } As if the blessed above did all conspire } To join their voices, and neglect the lyre. } At length there issued from the grove behind A fair assembly of the female kind: A train less fair, as ancient fathers tell, Seduced the sons of heaven to rebel. I pass their forms, and every charming grace; Less than an angel would their worth debase: But their attire, like liveries of a kind, All rich and rare, is fresh within my mind. In velvet white as snow the troop was gowned, The seams with sparkling emeralds set around: Their hoods and sleeves the same; and purfled o'er With diamonds, pearls, and all the shining store Of eastern pomp: their long-descending train, With rubies edged, and sapphires, swept the plain: High on their heads, with jewels richly set, Each lady wore a radiant coronet. Beneath the circles, all the quire was graced