... 'such splendour give
That you might think the world would strive
With Heaven itself for glory—so bright,
So fair, so proud, with its flowers bedight.
Then in the woods they lay at ease,
Over their heads the branching trees—
Lovers kissed, who lovers were,
And kissed again, and had no fear—
Then they chaunted rounds and lays,
Joyously led their sports and plays: