III.
Or dost thou shed in other worlds thy ray,
And give to other climes a new-born day?
What joy, what transports wait thy glad return,
When thro’ the clouds of Night breaks forth the Morn.
IV.
Yet those there are who hate thy cheering beam---
In whose dark breasts no rays of pleasure gleam:
Who, from thy bright approach unwelcome run,
“And sigh in shades, and sicken at the sun.”