Classic Poem

When Sol illumes the mountains of the east,
The bending Persian adoration pays;
The soft Ionian, with his flowing vest,
Tiara'd Lycians hail the glorious blaze,
And swarthy Memphis pours the song of praise,
When from on high he flings his noon-tide beam:
And when aslant he gilds with evening rays
Green Arno's shore, and Tiber's yellow stream,
The Ausonian youths adore his milder gleam,
And od'rous incense on his altars pile:
Lo! white-robed Druids sing the splendid theme,
When his last radiance tinges Mona's isle.
Such is the lustre of my blameless friend:
In such effulgence shall her day descend.