Echoes the vaulted roof above, With voices like the turning spheres; Such as in grotto, dell, or grove, Came never yet to mortal ears; While harps harmonious, ring around, One silver flute alternate sighs; And floating on a tide of sound, The soul in trance celestial lies. High piled with food ambrosial, towers A board, whose garniture of pride Displays each precious gem that pours Thro’ earth’s deep gloom a tinctured tide: There glows the sunny topaz, there The vernal em’rald freshly smiles, And ruby cups such nectars bear, As Bacchus brought from Indian isles. With flowers immortal, gaily crowned, (Unknown to man’s obscure abodes;) A dazzling band the feast surround; It seems a banquet of the Gods!-- All, brighter than the starry host, Which Hesper (monarch of the train,) Leads o’er Siberia’s glittering coast, When night and frost together reign! All, fairer than a grove of palm, When now its spring-tide leaves are on; Or pillar’d dome in evening’s calm; Or ocean bright’ning in the sun! But rais’d supreme on sapphire throne, One glorious form, unequall’d, shines; The Genius of the burning zone, The God of India’s woods and mines. Dark as the olive’s deepening dye, Yet radiant are his faultless limbs: Effulgent, large, his lifted eye, The hall and host immortal, dims! It burns upon the Grecian maid, Who like a sun-struck lily bends; For to her startled gaze displayed The genius from his throne descends. Trembling she sinks, and deems that now Before her stands the Delian God; Such was his height and beamy brow, When first on Cynthus’ top he trod; Such was his voice, (inspiring sweet!) When green Inopus’ banks among, He first from out her deep retreat Called Echo, with the lyric song! Gazing, the youthful Genius hangs Enamoured, o’er the kneeling Greek; Then thrill’d by love’s delightful pangs, Thus gives his kindling heart to speak. “See here, the nymph by magic brought! “See here, the boast of human charms! “Can wildest wishes ask for aught “Of fairer mould to fill my arms? “No genii, no!--these deathless flowers “Of rosy light, embodied air, “That grew in Eden’s summer bowers, “Are not so sweet, or trancing fair: “The countless, sparkling forms that gleam, “Or shine, or fade, or vanish quite, “Sporting in sunny Fancy’s beam, “Are not so perfect, not so bright. “Then hail your Queen! for sure those eyes “Will glow with tender bliss for me; “Those lips repay my ardent sighs; “That heart, my heart’s dear treasure be!”-- Raised from his head, the circlet gay He places fondly on her brow; Her senses fade,--she swoons away, And fills his arms, a wreath of snow!