Sloped even to our feet.
Over the lawns were Dryads tripping far,
And Hamadryads peeping from the wood,
And now and then a Naiad, like a star;
And all were clothed in a merry mood—
For not a care there was o’er which to solely brood.
Upon the summit, soothed with lasting ease,
Sat the Hesperides
Beneath the orchard trees—
Sipping the beakered nectar seasoned well,