Song. "The Sultry Day It Wears Away"

The sultry day it wears away,     And o'er the distant leas     The mist again, in purple stain,     Falls moist on flower and trees:     His home to find, the weary hind     Glad leaves his carts and ploughs;     While maidens fair, with bosoms bare,     Go coolly to their cows     The red round sun his work has done,     And dropp'd into his bed;     And sweetly shin'd, the oaks behind,     His curtain fring'd with red:     And step by step the night has crept,     And day, as loth, retires;     But clouds, more dark, night's entrance mark,     Till day's last spark expires.     Pride of the vales, the nightingales     Now charm the oaken grove;     And loud and long, with amorous tongue,     They try to please their love:     And where the rose reviving blows     Upon the swelter'd bower,     I'll take my seat, my love to meet,     And wait th' appointed hour.     And like the bird, whose joy is heard     Now he his love can join,     Who hails so loud the even shroud,     I'll wait as glad for mine:     As weary bees o'er parched leas     Now meet reviving flowers;     So on her breast I'll sink to rest,     And bless the evening hours.