O Goddess of the crystal brow,
That dwell'st the golden meads among;
Whose streams still fair in memory flow,
Whose murmurs melodize my song!
O! yet those gleams of joy display,
Which brightening glow'd in Fancy's ray,
When, near thy lucid urn reclin'd,
The Dryad, Nature, bar'd her breast,
And left, in naked charms imprest,
Her image on my mind.