I.
Fair vessel of our daily light, whose proud And previous glories gild that blushing cloud; Whose lively fires in swift projections glance From hill to hill, and by refracted chance Burnish some neighbour-rock, or tree, and then Fly off in coy and winged flames again: If thou this day Hold on thy way, Know, I have got a greater light than thine; A light, whose shade and back-parts make thee shine. Then get thee down! then get thee down! I have a Sun now of my own.