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b"Phoebus, arise!
\\nAnd paint the sable skies
\\nWith azure, white, and red:
\\nRouse Memnon's mother from her Tithon's bed
\\nThat she may thy career with roses spread:
\\nThe nightingales thy coming each-where sing:
\\nMake an eternal Spring!
\\nGive life to this dark world which lieth dead;
\\nSpread forth thy golden hair
\\nIn larger locks than thou wast wont before,
\\nAnd emperor-like decore
\\nWith diadem of pearl thy temples fair:
\\nChase hence the ugly night
\\nWhich serves but to make dear thy glorious light
\\n
\\n\\u2014This is that happy morn
\\nThat day, long-wish\\xe8d day
\\nOf all my life so dark,
\\n(If cruel stars have not my ruin sworn
\\nAnd fates my hopes betray),
\\nWhich, purely white, deserves
\\nAn everlasting diamond should it mark.
\\nThis is the morn should bring unto this grove
\\nMy Love, to hear and recompense my love.
\\nFair King, who all preserves,
\\nBut show thy blushing beams,
\\nAnd thou two sweeter eyes
\\nShalt see than those which by Peneus' streams
\\nDid once thy heart surprise.
\\nNow, Flora, deck thyself in fairest guise:
\\nIf that ye winds would hear
\\nA voice surpassing far Amphion's lyre,
\\nYour furious chiding stay;
\\nLet Zephyr only breathe,
\\nAnd with her tresses play.
\\n
\\n\\u2014The winds all silent are,
\\nAnd Phoebus in his chair
\\nEnsaffroning sea and air
\\nMakes vanish every star:
\\nNight like a drunkard reels
\\nBeyond the hills, to shun his flaming wheels:
\\nThe fields with flowers are deck'd in every hue,
\\nThe clouds with orient gold spangle their blue;
\\nHere is the pleasant place\\u2014
\\nAnd nothing wanting is, save She, alas!
\\n
"