Making its bank green gems along the wild,
There, too, she linger’d, from the diamond wave
Drawing bright water for his rosy lips,
And softly parting clusters of jet curls
To bathe his brow. At last the fane was reach’d,
The earth’s one sanctuary—and rapture hush’d
Her bosom, as before her, through the day,
It rose, a mountain of white marble, steep’d
In light like floating gold. But when that hour
Waned to the farewell moment, when the boy