Sun of the Noon! thy highest good is won!
The zenith of the heavens is thy throne!
In all his pride the “Man of Macedon”
Ne’er ruled an empire mighty as thine own,
Stretching from shore to shore, from zone to zone!
Thy frown can wither and thy smile create—
Thou goest forth companionless—alone!
Thou sittest like a god in royal state:—
Was ever seen so great a potentate?
Behold, great monarch, thy declining reign!