Full Lyrics
Gently touch the warbling lyre,
Chloe seems inclined to rest,
Fill her soul with fond desire,
Softest notes will soothe her rest,
Pleasing dreams assist in love,
Let them all propitious prove.
On the moving bank she lies
(Nature’s verdant velvet bed),
Beauteous flowers meet her eyes,
Forming pillows for her head;
Zephyrs waft their odours round,
And indulging whispers sound.
