Wafting on soft winds the redolent fame
Of fantasy, fountain, and tuneful refrain.
Joy, Happiness, and Bliss had here
Alighted when from Eden driven,
Poor wanderers of far other sphere
They languished for their native heaven;
And lingering they glamoured all the place,
The flowers bloomed in airs of Paradise,
That lulled the days to dreams of changeless peace.
No marvel were it if to mortal eyes