And now the sun, ere yet his lamp he shrouds,
Stains the pure western sky with crimson clouds:
Now from the sea’s last verge he sheds his rays,
And sinks triumphant in a golden blaze.
Still o’er the heavens reflected splendours flow,
Which make the world of waters gleam and glow:
Wide and more wide each billow shines more bright,
Till all the empurpled ocean floats in light.
Soon as fair Irza marked the evening’s close,
Grave from her seat the young enthusiast rose,