Strong from his bath, to wrestle with the trees,
A thewy hero; and, alas! too soon
Our scutcheoned oriel stained was overstrewn
Of Dawn's air-jewels; then I sang a strain
Of sleep that in my memory strives again:
"Ethereal limbed the lovely Sleep should sit,
Her starbeam locks with some vague splendor lit,
Like that the glow-worm's emerald radiance sheds
Thro' twilight dew-drops globed on lily-beds.
Her face as fair as if of graven stone,