THE day, from slumber waking, dawns most fair.
O Helios!—thou that abhorrest night,
Canst thou look down with radiance so bright
Upon a world woe-darkened?—look, nor care
What torments 'neath thy glorious beams prepare
For mortals whom relentless furies blight?
Some young, perchance, who never knew delight,
Some innocent, who long life's joys to share?
Forgive, O Heaven, if life I still desire!
There is a thought can make stern Death my friend:
Let me remember what man was my sire—
I shall so long his part in me to fly,
That with impatience I shall wait my end,
And find it sweet, before I live, to die!