Pindar: On the Eclipse of the Sun. 
By Peacock, Thomas Love. 


All-enlight'ning, all-beholding,
All-transcending star of day!
Why, thy sacred orb enfolding,
Why does darkness veil thy ray?

On thy life-diffusing splendour
These portentous shades that rise,
Vain the strength of mortals render,
Vain the labours of the wise.

Late thy wheels, through ether burning,
Rolled in unexampled light:
Mortals mourn thy change, returning
In the sable garb of night.

Hear, oh Phoebus! we implore thee,
By Olympian Jove divine;
Phoebus! Thebans kneel before thee,
Still on Thebes propitious shrine.

On thy darkened course attending,
Dost thou signs of sorrow bring?
Shall the Summer rains, descending,
Blast the promise of the Spring?

Or shall War, in evil season,
Spread unbounded ruin round?
Or the baleful hand of Treason
Our domestic joys confound?

By the bursting torrent's power,
Shall our rip'ning fields be lost?
Shall the air with snow-storms lour,
Or the soil be bound in frost?

Or shall ocean's waves stupendous,
Unresisted, unconfined,
Once again, with roar tremendous,
Hurl destruction on mankind?