O’er the dark wave I haste from them and thee.
“Yet doth my spirit faint to part?
—I mourn thee not, O sun!
Joy, solemn joy, o’erflows my heart:
Sing me triumphal songs!—my crown is won!
“Let not a voice of weeping rise—
My heart is girt with power!
Let the green earth and festal skies
Laugh, as to grace a conqueror’s closing hour!
“For thee, for thee, my bosom’s lord!