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.