When first the fiery-mantled sun
Round the earth and ocean blue,His children four the Seasons flew.First, in green apparel dancing,The young Spring smiled with angel grace;Rosy summer next advancing,Rushed into her sire’s embrace:-Her blue-haired sire, who bade her keepFor ever nearest to his smile,On Calpe’s olive-shaded steep,On India’s citron-covered isles:More remote and buxom-brown,The Queen of vintage bowed before his throne,A…