Sonnet LX

Why view'st thou, Edwy, with disdainful mien
The little Naiad of the Downton Wave?
High 'mid the rocks, where her clear waters lave
The circling, gloomy basin.--In such scene,
Silent, sequester'd, few demand, I ween,
That last perfection Phidian chisels gave.
Dimly the soft and musing Form is seen
In the hush'd, shelly, shadowy, lone concave.--
As sleeps her pure, tho' darkling fountain there,
I love to recollect her, stretch'd supine
Upon its mossy brink, with pendent hair,
As dripping o'er the flood.--Ah! well combine
Such gentle graces, modest, pensive, fair,
To aid the magic of her watry shrine.