In studious leisure lightly sped the hours.
Oh, it was joy,—for in the mighty round
Of Nature's works is nothing more divine,—
To look upon the heavens, the sacred sun,
With all the motions of the universe,
The seasonable change of morn and eve,
The orb of Phœbe and the attendant stars,
Filling the night with splendour far and wide.
All this, when it grows old, shall rush again
Back to blind chaos; yea, even now the day,