Dives in Itchin’s crystal stream.
Thy votaries, ranged in order due,
To-morrow’s wish’d-for dawn shall view,
Greeting the radiant Star of Light
With Matin Hymn and early kite:
E’en now, these hallow’d haunts among,
To thee we raise the choral song[50]
And swell with echoing minstrelsy
The strain of joy and liberty.
If pleasures such as these await