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Poem by Mary Robinson
Sonnet 3. Turn to Yon Vale Beneath
Turn to yon vale beneath, whose tangled shade Excludes the blazing torch of noon-day light, Where sportive Fawns, and dimpled Loves invite, The bow’r of Pleasure opens to the glade: Lull’d by soft flutes, on leaves of violets laid, There witching beauty greets the ravish’d sight, More gentle than the arbitress of night In all her silv’ry panoply array’d! The birds breathe bliss! light zephyrs kiss the ground, Stealing the hyacinth’s divine perfume; While from the pellucid fountains glitt’ring round, Small tinkling rills bid rival flow’rets bloom! HERE, laughing Cupids bathe the bosom’s wound; THERE, tyrant passion finds a glorious tomb!
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