O King! whose lofty throne blazes with immortal splendor, with what awful majesty dost thou reign in the vast empire of the sky! When thou appearest in thy glory, and shakest the sparkling diadem that adorns thy head, thou art the delight of the earth! thou art the pride of Heaven! Whither are they fled, those fires which so late bespangled the veil of night? Could they abide the majesty of thy presence? Did it not please thee to retire, and give them liberty to come forth and shew themselves, they would remain swallowed up for ever in the abyss of thy effulgence. Their place would be no where to be found. CHORUS OF VIRGINS. O delight of the world! Happy the wives who reign in thy celestial court! How beautiful art thou at thy awaking! How magnificent the ceremonies of thy rising! What charms are scattered by thy presence! The fair companions of thy slumbers undraw the purple curtains of the pavilion where thou reposest, and thy first looks dispel the vast obscurity of night. Oh, with what joy must nature have been transported at receiving thy first visit! Surely she remembers it: nor ever does she greet thy return without experiencing those tender yearnings which a fond daughter feels at the return of her long absent father. THE PONTIFF ALONE. Soul of the universe! but for thee, the vast ocean were but a motionless and frozen lump: the earth a barren heap of sand and mud; the atmosphere a gloomy void. Thou cherishedst the elements with thy vivifying and genial warmth; the air became fluid and insinuating, the waters moist and yielding, the earth animated and fruitful. Every thing took life; every thing wore the face of beauty. The elements, those universal parents which till then had lain fast locked in the chill arms of rest, now moved into alliance. The fire slid into the bosom of the waters: the waters parting into vapour, flew aloft, and spread themselves through the air: from the air, the earth received into her womb the precious rudiments of fertility: then began she to bring forth the unceasing fruits of that ever-renewing love, first kindled by thy rays. CHORUS OF INCAS. Soul of the universe! O Sun! art thou alone the Author of all the good thou bringest us? Or art thou but the minister of a First Cause; an intelligence superior to thee? If it be thy own will that guides thee, receive the effusions of our gratitude: if thou dost but accomplish the will of a Supreme Invisible Being, cause our vows to come unto him; how should it but please him to be adored in thee, his brightest image? THE PEOPLE. Soul of the universe! Father of Manco! Father of our kings! O Sun! protect thy people, and make thy children prosper! * * * * * DISCONTENT.