Lo! where she comes along with portly pace
Like Phoebe from her chamber of the east
Arising forth to run her mighty race
Clad all in white, that seems a virgin best
So well it her beseems that ye would ween
Some angel she had been
Her long loose yellow locks like golden wire
Sprinkled with pearl, and pearling flowers atween
Do like a golden mantle her attire
And being crowned with a garland green
Seem like some maidеn Queen

Tell me ye mеrchants' daughters did ye see
So fair a creature in your town before
So sweet, so lovely, and so mild as she
Adorned with beauty's grace and virtue's store?