Here, while the moonlight dim

Falls on that mossy brim,

Sing we our Fountain Hymn,

  Maidens of Zea!

Nothing but Music's strain,

When Lovers part in pain,

Soothes till they meet again,

  Oh, Maids of Zea!

Bright Fount so clear and cold

Round which the nymphs of old

Stood with their locks of gold,

  Fountain of Zea!

Not even Castaly,

Famed tho' its streamlet be,

Murmurs or shines like thee,

  Oh, Fount of Zea!

Thou, while our hymn we sing,

Thy silver voice shalt bring,

Answering, answering,

  Sweet Fount of Zea!

For of all rills that run

Sparkling by moon or sun

Thou art the fairest one,

  Bright Fount of Zea!

Now, by those stars that glance

Over heaven's still expanse

Weave we our mirthful dance,

  Daughters of Zea!

Such as in former days

Danced they by Dian's rays

Where the Eurotas strays,

  Oh, Maids of Zea!

But when to merry feet

Hearts with no echo beat,

Say, can the dance be sweet?

  Maidens of Zea!

No, naught but Music's strain,

When lovers part in pain,

Soothes till they meet again,

  Oh, Maids of Zea!