I.

The quickening East climbs to yon star, That, cradled, rocks herself in morn; The liquid silver broad'ning far Dawn drencheth cliff, holt, down and tarn. The trembling splendors gild the sky, Breath'd from her tawny champion's lips; The clear green dews above me lie, Their lustre the dark eyelash tips Of Oriana sitting by.

The crested cock 'mid his stout dames Crows from the purple-clover hill; His glossy coat the morn enflames, And all his leaping heart doth thrill. His curving tail sickles the plume That rosy nods against his eye. Laughs from deep beds of twinkling bloom The lilied East when wand'reth nigh My Oriana in the gloom.

The rooks swarm clatt'ring 'round the tow'rs; The falcon jingles in the air; The bursting dawn around him show'rs A clinging glory of wan glare. From the green knoll the shouting hunt With swollen cheeks clangs his alarms; Mayhap I hear the bristler's grunt: But where my Oriana charms The wood, hushed is its ev'ry haunt.

The willowed lake is cool with cloud Breaking and dimming into shreds, Which gauze the azure, thinly crowd The mist-pink West with hazy threads. A wild swan ruffles o'er the mere Soft as the drifting of a soul; A double swan she doth appear In mirage fixed 'twixt pole and pole When Oriana singeth near.