They lifted the veil from Eudora’s face—
It smiled out softly in pensive grace,
With lips of love, and a brow serene,
Meet for the soul of the deep wood-scene.
Bring wine, bring odours!—the board is spread;
Bring roses! a chaplet for every head!
The wine-cups foam’d, and the rose was shower’d
On the young and fair from the world embower’d;
The sun look’d not on them in that sweet shade,
The winds amid scented boughs were laid;