On The Fleet Streams, The Sun, That Late Arose, In Amber Radiance Plays; - The Tall Young Grass No Foot Hath Bruis'D; - Clear Morning, As I Pass, Breathes The Pure Gale, That On The Blossom Blows; And, As With Gold Yon Green Hill'S Summit Glows, The Lake Inlays The Vale With Molten Glass. - Now Is The Year'S Soft Youth; - Yet Me, Alas! Cheers Not As It Was Wont; - Impending Woes Weigh On My Heart; - The Joys, That Once Were Mine, Spring Leads Not Back; - And Those That Yet Remain Fade While She Blooms. - Each Hour More Lovely Shine Her Crystal Beams, And Feed Her Floral Train; But Ah With Pale, And Waning Fires, Decline Those Eyes, Whose Light My Filial Hopes Sustain.