SUNS Er.
Now to his palace in the West The King of Day returns to rest.
Not as when first he rose to sight, Soaring through the fields of space, Gladdening all things with the light Of his ever-beaming face ; Nor when, too bright for mortal eyes, His noontide splendour filled the exulting skies : Around his car of glittering sheen No more the dancing Hours are seen; Of all that faithless, fleeting train, True to their Sovereign none remain : High seated on his fiery throne, He rides, triumphant, but alone.
Meantime the gorgeous car of state Through heaven's wide champaign slopes its downward flight ; Now sinks behind you towering steep, Now skirts the margin of the deep, And now before the Western gate Stands, one broad blaze of living light.
Touched by some all-powerful hand Slowly the golden gates expand; While echoing from the inmost hall, Where duly ranged in order stand, Rank above rank, the minstrel hand, A thousand pealing voices raise The song of welcome, joy, and praise, To Him whose greatness fears no fall, Who by his own exhaustless might, Upholds the planets in their flight,
Yet looks with equal eye on all, Scattering with impartial hand
Blessings o'er many a smiling land.
Nor ceased the harmonious strain, until Sleep closed the Monarch's eyes, and all was still.
While round his royal couch of state The courtier Stars in silence wait,
Meek Twilight, in her robe of gray,
To the lone mountain bent her way; But musing onwards kept her eye Still fixed upon the Western sky, And as she viewed the changing scene, Oft on her slender staff would lean, With many a lengthened pause and lingering step between. On lake, and forest, hamlet, hut, and tower, Evening descends, like dew upon the flower.
Last rose majestic Night, and over all Flung the dim folding of her shadowy pall.
SWYNFEN JERVIS.
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