Who come to gladdened man on shining wing,
Which scatters round the sweets of an immortal spring.
Now when the dogwood gemmed with blossoms white,
The gorgeous grove where oak and stately pine,
Upthrew their gnarled arms of massy might,
And thus a leafy canopy did twine,
This dusky Dryad would with grace recline,
Along the mossy bank of crystal stream,
In whose smooth glass her angel beauties shine,
Beside brave Rolfe, a man of pallid gleam,