The old carbuncle lit the dome,

Where I was made a king;

The crown was wrought of pale sea-gold, So was my fairy ring.

And she who on my right hand sate

As the morning star was fair;

She was clothed in a robe of shadowy light, And veiled by her golden hair.

They made me king of the Fairy Isles,
That lie in the golden mist,

Where the coral rocks and the silvery sand

By singing waves are kissed.

Far off, in the ocean solitudes,
They lie, a glorious seven;

Like a beautiful group of sister stars,
In the untraced heights of heaven:

For the mariner sails them round about,
But he comes them not anigh;

They are hid far off, in a secret place
Of the sea's immensity.

Oh, beautiful isles! where comes no death, Where no winter enters in,

Where the fairy race, like the lily flowers,

Do neither toil nor spin!

Oh, beautiful isles! where the coral rocks
Like the ancient temple stand,

Like a temple of wondrous workmanship
For a lofty worship planned!