Blossom-bedecked, with limbs and bosoms bare,
Sang to Apollo psalms of love and praise!
With bells and salvoes all the hills resound,
And incense mingles with the atmosphere,
As still this Southern race, ill-clothed, uncrowned,
Retains the memory of the Pagan year,
When changed, yet all unchanged, Time’s round
Makes the Jew Fisherman a god appear.”