When thou wouldst build—no quarry sent its stores
T’ enrich thy walls; but thou didst hew the floods,
And make thy marble of the glassy wave.
Silently as a dream the fabric rose,
Ice upon ice; the well-adjusted parts
Were soon conjoin’d; nor other cement ask’d
Than water interfused to make them one.
Lamps gracefully disposed, and of all hues,
Illumin’d ev’ry side. Long wavy wreaths
Of flowers, that feared no enemy but warmth,