The courtly serenaders,
The beauteous listeners,
Sit idling 'neath the branches
A balmy zephyr stirs.
It's Tircis and Aminta,
Clitandre,-ever there!-
Damis, of melting sonnets
To many a frosty fair.
Their trailing flowery dresses,
Their fine beflowered coats,
Their elegance and lightness,
And shadows blue,-all floats
And mingles,-circling, wreathing,
In moonlight opaline,
While through the zephyr's harping
Tinkles the mandoline.
