VI.
As on he passed, the Arcadian god admires,
Between tall sculptured piles that line the way,
Cool lymph in crystal jets, and sheaf-like spires,
From marble gorges spouted ceaselessly;
Whose myriad drops with charmed eyes he sees,
Bestrode by interwoven Irides.
VII.
Weary at length of wandering here and there,
His eyes sore dazzled by the eternal gleam