Drawn from Nereus' sacred urn.
Let us find our old retreat,
Yield us to the kissing wave,
From the daylight's parching heat
In its cool profound to lave.
If ye needs must rob for beauty,
Earth's abysses teem with booty.
Gems, that love the blaze of day:—
We are tired of glittering shows,
And the strife of man's display;