Hast seen the tide of human tears,
That shall no longer flow. 30
What though beneath thee man put forth
His pomp, his pride, his skill;
And arts that made fire, flood, and earth,
The vassals of his will;—
Yet mourn I not thy parted sway, 35
Thou dim discrownèd king of day;
For all those trophied arts
And triumphs that beneath thee sprang,