And _arme_[13] welcome, to me come.

Farewell! ye solitudes, farewell!
I will not moulder rotting lie
With no one's lips to wish me well;
O give me immortality!

But what is fame? A bubble blown
Upon the breeze, that bursts its shell,
And all our brightest hopes are flown,
And leaves our solitude a hell.

The holy minstrel bows his head in woe,
And sweeps the harpstrings with a movement slow;
Then lifts his eyes toward the setting sun,
His evening invocation thus begun:

[14]O Samas! to the lifting of my hands
Show favor! unto me thy servant turn!
What man before thy blessèd Light withstands?
O thou! what mortal thine own words can learn?
And who can rival them inviolate?
[15]Among the gods no equal thou hast found.
In Heaven who of all the gods is great?
O thou alone! art great through Heaven's bound!

On earth what man is great? alas! no one,
For thou alone art great! through earth's vast bounds.
When wide thy awful voice in Heaven resounds,
The gods fall prostrate to our Holy One;