Bright is the circle of a summer sky;
Bright are the clouds which wait the setting throne
Of evening suns; and bright is poesy:
Her cheering influence distant nations own.
Fam'd were the bards of soft Italia's clime,
Fam'd was the shepherd of the Mulla sheen;
Now for his Naiads did he build the rhyme,
Now sung the glories of the maiden queen.
He told of knights, and ladies' gentle deeds,
Of feats of arms, and lovers' melting sighs;
Lo! Elfin champions, with their magic steeds,
(An awful prospect) strike our wond'ring eyes.
Peace to the bard whom gallant Sidney lov'd,
Whom Albion honor'd, and the fair approv'd.