Bring, bring to deck my brow, ye Sylvan girls, br A roseate wreath; nor for my waving hair br The costly band of studded gems prepare, br Of sparkling crysolite or orient pearls: br Love, o'er my head his canopy unfurls, br His purple pinions fan the whisp'ring air; br Mocking the golden sandal, rich and rare, br Beneath my feet the fragrant woodbine curls. br Bring the thin robe, to fold about my breast, br White as the downy swan; while round my waist br Let leaves of glossy myrtle bind the vest, br Not idly gay, but elegantly chaste! br Love scorns the nymph in wanton trappings drest; br And charms the most concealed, are doubly grac'd.