10 ENDYMION.
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road-leaved iig-trees even now foredoomTheir ripen'd fruitage ; yellow-girted beesTheir golden honeycombs ; our village leasTheir fairest blossomed beans and poppied com ;The chuckling Imnet its five yoimg unborn,To sing for tliee ; low-creeping strawberriesTheir summer coolness ; pent-up butterfliesTheir freckled wings ; yea, the fresh-budding yearAll its completions — be quickly near.By every wind that nods the mountain pine,forester divine I ** Thou, to whom every fawn and satyr fliesFor willing service ; whether to surpriseThe squatted hare while in half-sleeping fit ;Or upward ragged precipices flitTo save poor lambkins from the eagle's maw ;Or by mysterious enticement drawBewildered shepherds to tlieir path again ;Or to tread breathless round the frothy main,And ntther up all fancifullest shellsFor thee to tumble into Naiads' cells,And, being hidden, laugh at their out-peeping ;Or to delight thee with fantastic leaping.The while they pelt each other on tlie crownWith silvery oak-apples, and fir-cones brown —By all the echoes that about thee ring,Hear us, satyr king ! ** Hearkener to the loud-dapping shears,While ever and anon to his shorn peersA ram goes bleating : Winder of the horn.When snouted wild-boars routing tender comAneer our huntsman : Breather round our farms^To keep off mildews, and all weather harms :Strange ministrant of undescribed sounds,That come a-swooning over hollow grounds,And wither drearily on barren moors :Dread opener of the mysteiious doors
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