And every gentle air that dallied,

In that sweet day,

Along the ramparts plumed and pallid,

A winged odour went away.


III.


Wanderers in that happy valley

Through two luminous windows saw

Spirits moving musically

To a lute's well tuned law,

Round about a throne, where sitting

(Porphyrogene!)

In state his glory well befitting,

The ruler of the realm was seen.