��HENRY ROWE.

5-07. Sun

ANGEL, king of streaming morn; Cherub, call'd by Heav'n to shine; T' orient tread the waste forlorn; Guide aetherial, pow'r divine; Thou, Lord of all within !

Golden spirit, lamp of day, Host, that dips in blood the plain, Bids the crimson'd mead be gay, Bids the green blood burst the vein ; Thou, Lord of all within !

Soul, that wraps the globe in light; Spirit, beckoning to arise; Drives the frowning brow of night, Glory bursting o'er the skies; Thou, Lord of all within !

fo8. Moon

""THEE too, modest tressed maid,

• When thy fallen stars appear;

When in lawn of fire array 'd

Sov'reign of yon powder'd sphere; To thee I chant at close of day, Beneath, O maiden Moon! thy ray. Throned in sapphired ring supreme,

Pregnant with celestial juice, On silver wing thy diamond stream

Gives what summer hours produce ; While view'd impearl'd earth's rich inlay, Beneath, O maiden Moon! thy ray.

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