I

Lo, how bright-eyed morn awaketh Tower and temple, nook and Nile; How the sun exultant maketh All the world return his smile!

O'er the dry sand, vapour twinkleth, Like an eye when old age wrinkleth; While, along the watered shore Runs a river of gold ore.

Temple-front and court resemble Mirrors swung in wavering light; While the tapering columns tremble At the view of their own height.