warmly beats or glows.

Close by a lake,

Shall sound, or lie, or bloom about her bowers To make more bright and Iram-like the rapture of our hours.

With nightingales,

To drown with luscious song the drowsy vales, While Birds of Paradise

Flit swallow-like between the earth and skies, And pheasants, tame as household birds, feed always in our eyes.

The thrush and lark,

To carol ever in the grassy park,
Where dappled fawns and deer

Shall crop the tender herbs nor dream of fear, Nor move aside, with lifted heads, whenever we come near.

Sometimes the lake,

Should see our gilded galley shake and break, Like diamonds from her prow,

Or drops of pearl, more pure than snow,

Its limpid waves, while here and there, this way and that, we go.

Or on a knoll

Beside some oak's, or green acacia's, bole, With, floating overhead,

Our silken satin awning, broadly spread,

not break,

The shadows of the woods,

Whose crimson, green, and gold, for silver roods,

Mirrored revive again in softer life in its delicious floods.

There let me dwell,

But let sweet woman add her sacred spell,
To give the summer scene

A softer far than Paradisean mien,

Showering the roses of her smiles in contrast on the green.

Sweet lutes and flutes,

Divinest cates, and ripest, ruddiest fruits, The richest, raiest flowers,

sung or read.

Here, Father, give

Me Thy adoring, passionate son to live,
And every glowing day

My bride and me shall kneel and humbly

pray

That Jove, the Thunderer, may live and rule and reign alway.

And unto Thee

Shall altars rise and temples builded be,

And fairest virgins bring

Sweet flowers and fruits, the while they kneel and sing

Devoutest choral canticles to Jove, their God and King.