In thy baths what beauties bathe them,
Goddesses of love and light;
There Erota loves to swathe them
In the brightest robes of night.
Cool thy smiling banks at even,
Cool thy grottoes and thy cells,
Where, by gentle breezes driven,
Oft the dancing billow swells.
Then thou gatherest vapours round thee,
Veil’st thee in thy twilight dress;