Why did not pity touch thy God
To see them thus distress’d?
There while he gazes anxious round,
Sudden he hears a doleful sound,
And by a lake of crystal sheen
Spies a nymph of loveliest form and mien:
Her cheeks as the rose were crimson bright,
Her lips the red berry’s glow;
Her neck as the polished marble[2] white,
Her breast the pure blossom’s full blow;