Bathed her with blushes; but, when on the strand
She lightly sprang, flinging her tresses back,
A southern maiden would have deemed her pale.
Too rich for pallor was the polished glow
Of her lithe figure; while, in either cheek,
The red veins glimmered; dark blue were her eyes;
Her tresses, like deep shadows, made more fair
The light which they enhanced, glancing within.

The first to touch the white feet of the Queen
And place herself at her right hand, was she.
Others came soon; all bright, all beautiful,
With deep blue eyes, and sweet mouths set in smiles.
Long chains of jewels rare were, round their necks,
Twined many times; these, flickering, rose and fell
With the soft breath their full, graced bosoms drew.
From waist to knee of each a tunic dropped
In many folds, woven in changing hues
Of birds' gay plumage, and fringed deep with gems,
Which they with artless and unenvying pride,
Would fain have made, each, most magnificent.

They gathered round their Queen, as midnight neared.
Suddenly, with the hour, there came a change
Over the moonlight and the courtly scene.
OENE upon the pavement pressed her feet,
And out the North-Lights sprang, to do her will,
From secret caverns underneath its pearls.
O'er all the land she bade them come and go;
Each battlemented iceberg on the deep