Suns that bask in your own pure shine!
Countless guides of the awe-struck soul,
As inquiring it rushes from pole to pole:
I drink! I drink! at your fountains deep,
While the world is locked in the arms of sleep,
’Till filled with the Pythonic draught of light,
My intoxicate spirit deems all things bright;
And earth (and its deeds) is lost to me,
Eclipsed by your dazzling radiency.
—Dublin University Magazine.