How mad they are and troubled; like low streams
With torrents crown’d are men with diadems.
Chapman.
Around Thy throne, in peaceful streams,
O God! celestial pleasure glides;
The brightening wave Thine image beams,
Untinged by sorrow’s darkened tides.
That stream my fainting spirit cheers
When sultry suns pour down their heat;
And when I cross the vale of tears,