The joy to nature’s heart. Yet through the glow
Of clouds that mantle thy decline, our gaze
Tracks thee with love half-fearful: and in days
When earth too much adored thee, what a swell
Of mournful passion, deepening mighty lays,
Told how the dying bade thy light farewell,
O sun of Greece! O glorious, festal sun!
Lost, lost!—for them thy golden hours were done,
And darkness lay before them! Happier far
Are we, not thus to thy bright wheels enchain’d,