[Q]
  Till the last banner of their [63] long array
  Has disappeared, and every trace is fled 210
  Of splendour—­save the beacon’s spiry head
  Tipt with eve’s latest gleam of burning red. [64]

    Now, while the solemn evening shadows sail,
  On slowly-waving pinions, [65] down the vale;
  And, fronting the bright west, yon oak entwines 215
  Its darkening boughs and leaves, in stronger lines; [66]
  ’Tis pleasant near the tranquil lake to stray [67]
  Where, winding on along some secret bay, [68]
  The swan uplifts his chest, and backward flings
  His neck, a varying arch, between his towering wings:  220
  The eye that marks the gliding creature sees
  How graceful, pride can be, and how majestic, ease. [69]

  While tender cares and mild domestic loves
  With furtive watch pursue her as she moves,
  The female with a meeker charm succeeds, 225
  And her brown little-ones around her leads,
  Nibbling the water lilies as they pass,
  Or playing wanton with the floating grass. 
  She, in a mother’s care, her beauty’s pride
  Forgetting, calls the wearied to her side; [70] 230
  Alternately they mount her back, and rest
  Close by her mantling wings’ embraces prest. [R]

    Long may they float upon this flood serene;
  Theirs be these holms untrodden, still, and green,
  Where leafy shades fence off the blustering gale, 235
  And breathes in peace the lily of the vale![71]
  Yon isle, which feels not even the milk-maid’s feet,
  Yet hears her song, “by distance made more sweet,” [72] [S]
  Yon isle conceals their home, their hut-like bower;
  Green water-rushes overspread the floor; [73] 240
  Long grass and willows form the woven wall,
  And swings above the roof the poplar tall. 
  Thence issuing often with unwieldy stalk,
  They crush with broad black feet their flowery walk; [74]
  Or, from the neighbouring water, hear at morn [75] 245
  The hound, the horse’s tread, and mellow horn;
  Involve their serpent-necks in changeful rings,
  Rolled wantonly between their slippery wings,
  Or, starting up with noise and rude delight,
  Force half upon the wave their cumbrous flight. [76] 250

    Fair Swan! by all a mother’s joys caressed,
  Haply some wretch has eyed, and called thee blessed;
  When with her infants, from some shady seat
  By the lake’s edge, she rose—­to face the noontide heat;
  Or taught their limbs along the dusty road 255
  A few short steps to totter with their load. [77]

    I see her now, denied to lay her head,
  On cold blue nights, in hut or straw-built shed,
  Turn to a silent smile their sleepy cry,
  By pointing to the gliding moon [78] on high. 260