Oh! if too much exulting in her dower,
My soul, not yet to lowly thought subdued,
Hath stood without thee on her hill of power—
A fearful and a dazzling solitude!
And therefore from that haughty summit’s crown
To dim desertion is by thee cast down;
Behold! thy child submissively hath bow’d—
Shine on him through the cloud!
Let the now darken’d earth and curtain’d heaven
Back to his vision with thy face be given!