Rich in kindred forms and faces,
Choral bands of sister-Graces
Circling Amphitrite's car?

Toiling o'er the shallow page,
Vainly pedants seek the lore
Taught us by that prophet sage,
Whom our azure Thetis bore.
Wiser Eld his solemn numbers,
Listening, stole from Ocean's slumbers,
Signs of coming doom to learn.
Poor were all your labours reap,
To the gifted seers that keep
Mysteries of the ancient deep,
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;
Let us sink to sweet repose
Where the lulling water flows;
Give us to our native bay!