With ruddy cheek though solemn gear,
Full glad it seems of journey done,
That started with the rising sun,
And confident of jovial cheer;
Such never yet was wanting here.
Who follows fast, with footstep light,
And eye of fire, and garment white?
O, now the child of song I know,
For the sun on his tuneful harp is bright!
And free on the wind his long locks flow—