I

Hail, orient Conqueror of gloomy Night! Thou that canst shed the bliss of gratitude On hearts howe'er insensible or rude; Whether thy punctual visitations smite The haughty towers where monarchs dwell; Or thou, impartial Sun, with presence bright Cheer'st the low threshold of the peasant's cell! Not unrejoiced I see thee climb the sky In naked splendour, clear from mist or haze, Or cloud approaching to divert the rays, Which even in deepest winter testify Thy power and majesty, Dazzling the vision that presumes to gaze. --Well does thine aspect usher in this Day; As aptly suits therewith that modest pace Submitted to the chains That bind thee to the path which God ordains That thou shall trace, Till, with the heavens and earth, thou pass away! Nor less, the stillness of these frosty plains, Their utter stillness, and the silent grace Of yon ethereal summits white with snow,[AR] (Whose tranquil pomp and spotless purity Report of storms gone by To us who tread below) Do with the service of this Day accord. --Divinest Object which the uplifted eye Of mortal man is suffered to behold; Thou, who upon those snow-clad Heights hast poured Meek lustre, nor forget'st the humble Vale; Thou who dost warm Earth's universal mould, And for thy bounty wert not unadored By pious men of old; Once more, heart-cheering Sun, I bid thee hail! Bright be thy course to-day, let not this promise fail!