I

      Arethusa arose

      From her couch of snows

In the Acroceraunian mountains,—­

      From cloud and from crag,

      With many a jag,

Shepherding her bright fountains.

      She leapt down the rocks,

      With her rainbow locks

Streaming among the streams;—­

      Her steps paved with green

      The downward ravine

Which slopes to the western gleams;

      And gliding and springing

      She went, ever singing,

In murmurs as soft as sleep;

      The Earth seemed to love her,

      And Heaven smiled above her,

As she lingered towards the deep.