Ascended to her everlasting throne
Built on the steadfast centre of the world,
And waited for the middle hour of night,
Now swiftly coming, to convene her court.
Set in an ocean of perpetual calm
Was the fair island honoured by her reign;
Slowly around her rolled the Frigid Zone,
Dim in the mystic moonlight far away,--
A silvery ring, circling her nearer realm
With the pale lustre of its snowy walls,
Defending from all storm and sudden change
The sea which bathed the island's level shores.
She sat upon her throne, and none might tell
Whether her limbs the lambent lustre cast
Upon the pearls of which it was composed,
Or they cast beauty on her glowing form.
Around her feet a pavement spread, inlaid
Of squares of roseate sea-shells, set about
With purple gems, unknown in other lands;--
Thence, winding paths, sprinkled with golden sand,
Ran out, through bowers of flowers and fields of green
To meet the sea.

Low in the South the Moon
Shone full against the island. The North-star,
Sparkling and blazing like a silver sun,
Stood at the Zenith, as a lamp hung out
From heaven to charm the endless Arctic night;--
And thus a soft profusion of pure light,
More exquisite than sunshine, fell abroad.