1 It was the time, when 'gainst the breaking day Rebellious night yet strove, and still repined; For in the east appear'd the morning gray, And yet some lamps in Jove's high palace shined, When to Mount Olivet he took his way, And saw, as round about his eyes he twined, Night's shadows hence, from thence the morning's shine; This bright, that dark; that earthly, this divine: 2 Thus to himself he thought: 'How many bright And splendent lamps shine in heaven's temple high! Day hath his golden sun, her moon the night, Her fix'd and wandering stars the azure sky; So framed all by their Creator's might, That still they live and shine, and ne'er shall die, Till, in a moment, with the last day's brand They burn, and with them burn sea, air, and land.' 3 Thus as he mused, to the top he went, And there kneel'd down with reverence and fear; His eyes upon heaven's eastern face he bent; His thoughts above all heavens uplifted were-- 'The sins and errors, which I now repent, Of my unbridled youth, O Father dear, Remember not, but let thy mercy fall, And purge my faults and my offences all.' 4 Thus prayed he; with purple wings up-flew In golden weed the morning's lusty queen, Begilding, with the radiant beams she threw, His helm, his harness, and the mountain green: Upon his breast and forehead gently blew The air, that balm and nardus breathed unseen; And o'er his head, let down from clearest skies, A cloud of pure and precious dew there flies: 5 The heavenly dew was on his garments spread, To which compared, his clothes pale ashes seem, And sprinkled so, that all that paleness fled, And thence of purest white bright rays outstream: So cheered are the flowers, late withered, With the sweet comfort of the morning beam; And so, return'd to youth, a serpent old Adorns herself in new and native gold. 6 The lovely whiteness of his changed weed The prince perceived well and long admired; Toward, the forest march'd he on with speed, Resolved, as such adventures great required: Thither he came, whence, shrinking back for dread Of that strange desert's sight, the first retired; But not to him fearful or loathsome made That forest was, but sweet with pleasant shade. 7 Forward he pass'd, and in the grove before He heard a sound, that strange, sweet, pleasing was; There roll'd a crystal brook with gentle roar, There sigh'd the winds, as through the leaves they pass; There did the nightingale her wrongs deplore, There sung the swan, and singing died, alas! There lute, harp, cittern, human voice, he heard, And all these sounds one sound right well declared.