The Eagle or Golden Fleece.
Those shrines and temples of granite,
Glad sentinels of the free!
There let me roam through dell once more,
Let me glad and happy be.
Some speak of splendid balmy isles,
Far out in the rolling sea,
Of spicy groves, and vine-clad hills,
And of things which are to be;
Of nymphs and naiads of the past,