The cheek of the peach is glowing with her smile, her splendour blazeth in the lightning,
She is the dryad of the woods, the naiad of the streams;
Her golden hair hath tapestried the silkworm's silent chamber,
And to her measured harmonies the wild waves beat in time;
With tinkling feet at eventide she danceth in the meadow,
Or, like a Titan, lieth stretched athwart the ridgy Alps;
She is rising, in her veil of mist, a Venus from the waters,—
Men gaze upon the loveliness,—and lo, it is beautiful exceedingly;
She, with the might of a Briareus, is dragging down the clouds upon the mountain,—
Men look upon the grandeur,—and lo, it is excellent in glory.