And breathing liquid freshness on the flowers.
Here bright reflected in the pool below
The vermil apples tremble on the bough;
Where o’er the yellow sands the waters sleep,
The primrosed banks inverted, dew-drops weep;
Where murmuring o’er the pebbles purls the stream,
The silver trouts in playful curvings gleam.
Long thus and various every riv’let strays,
Till closing now their long meand’ring maze,
Where in a sinking vale the mountains end,