A month that owns an interest in your name:
You and the flowers are its peculiar claim.[64]
That star, that at your birth shone out so bright,
It stained the duller sun's meridian light,
Did once again its potent fires renew,[65]
Guiding our eyes to find and worship you.
And now Time's whiter series is begun,
Which in soft centuries shall smoothly run:
Those clouds, that overcast your morn, shall fly,
Dispelled, to farthest corners of the sky.