Fair is the Swan, whose majesty, prevailing
O'er breezeless water, on Locarno's Lake,
Bears him on while proudly sailing
He leaves behind a moon-illuminated wake:
- Behold! -- as with a gushing impulse heaves
That downy prow, and softly cleaves
The mirror of the crystal flood,
Vanish inverted hill, and shadowy wood,
And pendent rocks, where'er in gliding state,
Winds the mute Creature without visible Mate
Or Rival, save the Queen of night
Showering down a silver light,
From heaven, upon her chosen Favourite!