Jonathan Battishill
(1738 - 1801)

Help me, each harmonious grove
(T.T.B.)
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Pub. London, c.1775.
Lyrics: Arthur Bradley

Help me, each harmonious grove,
Gently whisper, all ye trees,
Tune each warbling note to love,
And cool each mead with softest breeze;
Ah! breathe fresh odours, ev'ry flower,
All your various paintings shew;
Pleasing verdure grace each bow'r,
Around let ev'ry blessing flow.

Glide, ye limpid brooks, along;
Phoebus, glance thy mildest ray,
Murm'ring floods, repeat my song,
And tell what Colin dares not say.
'Tis Celia comes, whose charming air
Fires with love the rural swains;
Tell, ah! tell the blooming fair
That Colin dies if she disdains.