Through the summer day, through the weary day,
We have glided long;
Ere we speed to the night through her portals gray,
Hail us with song!
With song, with song,
With a bright and joyous song,
Such as the Cretan maid,
While the twilight made her bolder,
Woke, high through the ivy shade,
When the wine-god first consoled her.
From the hush'd low-breathing skies,
Half-shut, look'd their starry eyes,
And all around,
With a loving sound,
The Ægean waves were creeping;
On her lap lay the lynx's head;
Wild thyme was her bridal bed;
And aye through each tiny space,
In the green vine's green embrace,
The fauns were slyly peeping;--
The fauns, the prying fauns--
The arch, the laughing fauns--
The fauns were slyly peeping!