giver of glowing light!

though but a god of other days,

the kings and sages

of wiser ages

still live and gladden in thy genial rays!

king of the tuneful lyre,

still poets’ hymns to thee belong;

though lips are cold

whereon of old

thy beams all turn’d to worshipping and song!

lord of the dreadful bow,

none triumph now for python’s death;

but thou dost save

from hungry grave

the life that hangs upon a summer breath.

father of rosy day,

no more thy clouds of incense rise;

but waking flow’rs

at morning hours,

give out their sweets to meet thee in the skies.

god of the delphic fame,

no more thou listenest to hymns sublime;

but they will leave

on winds at eve,

a solemn echo to the end of time.