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THE SUN
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

THE SUN

“Thy years must have an end. Thou wilt sleep in thy clouds careless of the voice of the morning.”

Ossian

Thou sun, whose earth-pervading rays,
Light of the world! hath shone,

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Since first thy night-dissolving blaze
Was o'er thy darkness thrown—
O, ever till the tide of time
Shall cease its troubled flow,
The light, the joy of every clime,
Shall be thy peerless glow.
Thou hast seen earth's generations fall,
Her mightiest pass away;
Thou hast lighted up the grassy pall,
Where her sons of glory lay.
The gates of Thebes, the gilded towers
That told of Trojan pride,
That met thy beam in morning hours,
And flashed its radiance wide,
They are fallen now—and thou hast seen
Their ruins melt away;
Thou hast marked the ivy's shroud of green,
Steal o'er their slow decay.
Yet thou shalt sink like those—thy light
Will vanish from on high,
No more to chase the shadowy night,
Or paint the evening sky.
But man, whose works—whose mortal form
In awful ruin lies,
Beyond the earth's dissolving storm,
And death's pale realm shall rise.
A holier and a brighter day
Than thine, O Sun, shall dawn
Upon his soul, when thy quenched ray
Has ceased to hail the morn.
Haverhill Gazette, February 17, 1827