There, like a bird, it sits and sings,
Then whets[85] and claps its silver wings,
And, till prepared for longer flight,
Waves in its plumes the various light....
Such was the happy Garden-state
While man there walked without a mate:
After a place so pure and sweet,
What other help could yet be meet!
But 'twas beyond a mortal's share
To wander solitary there: