On Swans and The Royal Barge

I think you'll find these words describe what you see:

The barge he sat in, like a burnish'd throne,
Burn'd on the water: the poop was beaten gold;
Purple the sails, and so perfumed that
The winds were love-sick with them; the oars were silver,
Which to the tunes of flutes kept stroke, and made
The water which they beat to follow faster,
As amorous of their strokes.

On the question of swans, well, they are Crown property and we see it our imperial duty to keep them well disciplined.