And spirits, o’er whose pearly halls
Th’ eternal billow heaves and falls.
—With charms like these, of mystic power,
Watchers! beguile the midnight hour.
Slowly that hour hath roll’d away,
And star by star withdraws its ray.
Dark children of the sun! again
Your own rich orient hails his reign.
He comes, but veil’d—with sanguine glare
Tinging the mists that load the air;