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swan, upon the waters bright, In lime-hued vest, like abbot white! Bird of the spray, to whom is giv’n The raiment of the men of heav’n; Bird of broad hand, in youth’s proud age, Syvaddon was thy heritage! Two gifts in thee, fair bird, unite To glean the fish in yonder lake, And bending o’er yon hills thy flight A glance at earth and sea to take! Oh! ’tis a noble task to ride The billows countless as the snow; Thy long fair neck (thou thing of pride!) Thy hook to catch the fish below; Thou guardian of the fountain head, By which Syvaddon’s waves are fed! Above the dingle’s rugged streams, Intensely white thy raiment gleams; Thy shirt like crystal tissue seems; Thy doublet, and thy waistcoat bright, Like thousand lilies meet the sight;