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, Where the coral rocks and the silvery sand By singing waves are kissed. Far off, in the ocean solitudes, Like a beautiful group of sister stars, For the mariner sails them round about, They are hid far off, in a secret place 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 a temple of wondrous workmanship |