Giver of glowing light! 
Though but a god of other days, 
       The kings and sages 
       Of wiser ages 
Still live and gladden in thy genial 
          rays! 
    King of the tuneful lyre, 
Still poets' hymns to thee belong; 
       Though lips are cold 
       Whereon of old 
Thy beams all turn'd to worshipping 
          and song! 
    Lord of the dreadful bow, 
None triumph now for Python's 
          death; 
    But thou dost save 
    From hungry grave 
The life that hangs upon a summer 
          breath.
    Father of rosy day, 
No more thy clouds of incense rise; 
       But waking flow'rs 
       At morning hours, 
Give out their sweets to meet thee in 
          the skies. 
    God of the Delphic fame, 
No more thou listenest to hymns sub-
          lime; 
       But they will leave 
       On winds at eve, 
A solemn echo to the end of time.