To the Grasshopper
Grasshopper how I envy thee!
Who from yonder lofty tree
When refresh’d with wholesome dews
Which ev’ry morn for thee renews:
Like a monarch from the spray
Pourest thy song the live-long day.
Lord thou callest thyself of all
That within thy vision fall
What the fruitful fields produce
Or the vine’s or olive’s juice
Thou art still the peasant’s friend
His labours thou dost ne’er offend.
All mankind aye welcome thee,
Sweet prophet of festivity:
For thou blest harbinger dost bring
Tiding of the approach of spring.
While thee the Muses ever love
Daughters of all powerful Jove,
Phoebus on thee confers his song,
And ranks thee his gay train among.
Old age himself thee ne’er affrights,
But only brings thee new delights.
Free from all pain with wisdom fraught
Thou lover of the tuneful thought.
Offspring of earth, but without mortal blood,
Thou almost art the equal of a god.
The senior Editor is solicited to describe the particulars in which the τέττιξ of the Greeks and the cicada of the Romans differ from the English grasshopper.