VIII.

“Girt with many a Baron bold “Sublime their starry fronts they rear; “And gorgeous Dames, and Statesmen old, “In bearded majesty appear. “In the midst a Form divine! “Her eye proclaims her of the Briton-Line; “Her lion-port, her awe-commanding face “Attemper’d sweet to virgin-grace. “What strings symphonious tremble in the air, “What strains of vocal transport round her play! “Hear from the grave, great Talliessin, hear; “They breathe a soul to animate thy clay. “Bright Rapture calls, and, soaring as she sings, “Waves in the eye of Heav’n her many-colour’d wings.