And like a still, insinuating tide
Encompass us about on every side,
Imprisoning each weary outpost sense,
Till thought is taken, sleeping in his tents!
Yet now the conquerer with lofty pride
Becomes our guardian, with us doth abide
And plans all night our wondrous recompense.
He takes away the weary, worn-out day,
And brings to-morrow—bride without a stain;
Gives us fresh liberty, a chance to mend;