Gentle stranger, have you seenA woodnymph pass this way?A blue-eyed maid of cheerful mien,Attired in green array.A bugle in her hand she bore,Which loud and oft she blew;And buskins on her feet she wore,Gemmed with the silver dew.Oft, at the early peep of morn,She courts this sylvan scene;And winds her joy inspiring horn,Melodious o'er the green.Responsive echo swells the layIn loud resounding strains;And wafts the dying harmonyO'er all the neighb'ring plains.A graceful nymph this morn I've seen,With glitt'ring zone displayed;And, as she brushed the dew-decked green,I hailed the beauteous maid.Swift as the fearful hind she flies,When hounds and horns pursue;And up yon sloping woodland hiesTo join the huntress crew.
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