John Logan

1748-1788 / Scotland

Ossian's Hymn To The Sun

O Thou whose beams the sea-gift earth array,
King of the sky, and father of the day!
O sun! what fountain hid from human eyes,
Supplies thy circle round the radiant skies,
For ever burning and for ever bright,
With heaven's pure fire, and everlasting light?
What awful beauty in thy face appears!
Immortal youth, beyond the power of years!

When gloomy darkness to thy reign resigns,
And from the gate of morn thy glory shines,
The conscious stars are put to sudden flight,
And all the planets hide their heads in night:
The queen of heaven forsakes th' ethereal plain,
To sink inglorious in the western main.
The clouds refulgent deck thy golden throne,
High in the heavens, immortal and alone!
Who can abide the brightness of thy face!
Or who attend thee in thy rapid race!
The mountain oaks, like their own leaves decay;
Themselves the mountains wear with age away;
The boundless main that rolls from land to land,
Lessens at times, and leaves a waste of sand:
The silver moon, refulgent lamp of night,
Is lost in heaven, and emptied of her light;
But thou for ever shalt endure the same,
Thy light eternal, and unspent thy flame.

When tempests with their train impend on high,
Darken the day, and load the labouring sky;
When heaven's wide convex glows with lightnings dire,
All ether flaming, and all earth on fire:
When loud and long the deep-mouth'd thunder rolls,
And peals on peals redoubled rend the poles;
It from the opening clouds thy form appears,
Her wonted charm the force of nature wears;
Thy beauteous orb restores departed day,
Looks from the sky, and laughs the storm away.
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