The earliest wreath that bound thy hair
Was twined of glowing heath-flowers there.
There in the day-spring of thy years,
Undimm’d by passions or by tears,
Oft, while thy bright, enraptured eye
Wander’d o’er ocean, earth, or sky,
While the wild breeze that round thee blew,
Tinged thy warm cheek with richer hue.
Pure as the skies that o’er thy head
Their clear and cloudless azure spread,