Long, long, ye snowy ringlets, wave!
Long, long, your much-loved beauty save!
May bliss your latest evening crown,
Disarm life’s winter of its frown,
And soft, ye hoary hairs, go down
In gladness to the grave!
And as the parting beams of day
On mountain-snows reflected play,
And tints of roseate lustre shed;
Thus, on the snow that crowns thy head,