And in the liquid distance many an isle
Gleamed in his yellow beams and parting smile;
And there the lowing herds adown the hill
Were winding to their homes by glade and rill;
The weary peasants by their cabin door
To their shrill pipes their simple idyls pour;
Maidens reclining ’neath the spreading trees,
Bathe their dark brows in the refreshing breeze,
Send their wild mirth along the vales afar,
And greet with glowing eyes the evening star—