Leav’st the blue distance of the skies,
Unsullied Sun, with tress of gold?
Where west thy tent of slumber lies
The portals of the night unfold.
The cautious billows cower nigher
Thy shining temples to behold;
Awe-struck, their heads they lift up higher
To view thee grand in thy repose!
Pale from thy side they back retire!
May in thy cave sleep o’er thee close,