To her, whose beams illume those cedar-shades
Faintly as Nature’s light the ’wilder’d soul pervades.
XXI.
But when thine orb, all earth’s rich hues restoring,
Came forth, O sun! in majesty supreme,
Still, from thy pure exhaustless fountain, pouring
Beauty and life in each triumphant beam,
Through thine own East what joyous rites prevail’d!
What choral songs re-echo’d! while thy fire
Shone o’er its thousand altars, and exhaled