For idle fear when thou art near;

When thou art near to waft along

The kindred graces—joy and song.

Oh, dainty zephyr, sweep the deep

Where dimpled muses softly sleep;

Asleep in ocean's arms they lie,

Like autumn in the tranquil sky.

Fulfil the soul's supreme desire,

To liquid notes the harp inspire;

To music sweet as wood and lake