JUPITER.
Oh! that it were my doom to be
The spirit of yon beauteous star,
Dwelling up there in purity,
Alone, as all such bright things are;
My sole employ to pray and shine,
To light my censer at the sun!
Moore: Loves of the Angels.
Oh! that it were my doom to be
The spirit of yon beauteous star,
Dwelling up there in purity,
Alone, as all such bright things are;
My sole employ to pray and shine,
To light my censer at the sun!
Moore: Loves of the Angels.