Hang o’er the brink of the transparent waves, 305
Sleep where the pendant rose its garland laves;
Or idly on the velvet margin stray,
And watch the gentle waters glide away.
Not here the pomp of Grandeur’s cumbrous state,
Here gentle Peace and polished Taste await. 310
His mind who planned this smiling solitude
With that pure feeling that directs the good;
On Nature’s brow the votive chaplet placed,
And loved the spot by her soft beauty graced;