His routed army and his fading flag?
Alas! proud Science, Fancy’s sneering foe,
Says they are but the Sun’s refracted rays,
And scintillations from his burning wheels.
Earth’s bride-groom rises. Round his glittering head
He shakes his streamy locks, and fast and far
Sheds showers of splendor; and his blushing bride,
Recumbent on her grassy couch, scarce opes
Her bashful eyes to meet his ardent gaze.
While at the advent of her lord, the Earth,