While far amid the deep’ning west, arise
Strange giant-forms, that seem to guard the skies.
Ay, giant-clouds!—from out the vestibule
Of Heaven’s vast, dark’ning dome, what mighty train
Comes forth!—a cavalcade of kings—whose sceptered rule,
The whole broad realm of Heaven! Lo, again
Their host they marshal—where the God of Day
Sinks, like a wearied conqueror, to his rest,
They have usurped his throne; with proud array
Of gold and purple canopy o’er thy breast—