To her, the child of his slow doting years,
Was given a beauteous youth, not long to outlast
His life, but be the pride of his decay,
And win to gentler sway his lost domains.
And when the day of time arrived, when Air
Took o’er from her decrepit sire the third
Of the Sun’s kingdoms, the one-moonèd earth,
Straight came she down to her inheritance. 591
Gaze on the sun with thine unshaded eye
And shrink from what she saw. Forests of fire