Brown as the nappy ale at Hocktide game—
So brown the crooked rings that neatly fell
Over the neck of that all-beauteous dame.
Grey as the morn before the ruddy flame
Of Phœbus' chariot rolling through the sky;
Grey as the steel-horn'd goats Conyan made tame—
So grey appear'd her featly sparkling eye.
"Majestic as the grove of oaks that stood
Before the abbey built by Oswald king;