Flow gently, I'll sing thee a song in thy praise.
Their blooming wreaths from fair Valclusa's bowers
To Arno's myrtle border.
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Princess of rivers, how I love
Upon thy flowery banks to lie,
And view thy silver stream,
When gilded by a summer's beam!
And in it all thy wanton fry,
Playing at liberty;
And with my angle, upon them
The all of treachery
I ever learned, industriously to try!