THEN, lowly bending, with seraphic grace,
The vase he proffer'd full; and not a gem
Drawn forth successive from its sparkling place,
But put to shame the Persian diadem.

While he, 'Nay, let me o'er thy white arms bind
These orient pearls, less smooth; Egla, for thee,
(My thrilling substance pained by storm and wind,)
I sought them in the caverns of the sea.

'Look! here's a ruby; drinking solar rays,
I saw it redden on a mountain tip;
Now on thy snowy bosom let it blaze;
'T will blush still deeper to behold thy lip.

'Here's for thy hair a garland; every flower
That spreads its blossoms, water'd by the tear
Of the sad slave in Babylonian bower,
Might see its frail bright hues perpetuate here.

'For morn's light bell, this changeful amethyst;
A sapphire for the violet's tender blue;
Large opals, for the queen-rose zephyr-kist;
And here are emeralds of every hue,
For folded bud and leaflet, dropp'd with dew.

'And here's a diamond, cull'd from Indian mine,
To gift a haughty queen! It might not be;
I knew a worthier brow, sister divine,
And brought the gem; for well I deem, for thee

'The 'arch-chymic sun' in earth's dark bosom wrought
To prison thus a ray, that when dull night
Frowns o'er her realms, and nature's all seems nought,
She whom he grieves to leave may still behold his light.'