O’er heaven’s pure azure sheds her sacred light;
When not a breath disturbs the deep serene,
And not a cloud o’ercasts the solemn scene;
Around her throne the vivid planets roll;
And stars unnumber’d gild the glowing pole.
O’er the dark trees a yellower verdure shed,
And tip with silver every mountain’s head;
Then shine the vales, the rocks in prospect rise,
A flood of glory bursts from all the skies;
The conscious swains rejoicing in the sight,