University of Virginia Library

There, by her own bright Attic flood,
The blue-ey'd Queen of Wisdom stood;—
Not as she haunts the sage's dreams,
With brow unveil'd, divine, severe;
But soften'd, as on bards she beams,
When fresh from Poesy's high sphere,
A music, not her own, she brings,
And, through the veil which Fancy flings
Oer her stern features, gently sings.