How like Eos,
Thou arrive riding Phaeton and Lampus,
Draped in fleecy clouds,
Hastening across the streams of Oceanus,
Blinding me to see
Amidst the bright, Horae,
Thy feminine hours
Climbing the arc of heaven,
And at that moment
I can only sing thee,
For thou hath made me,
Like a creator,
Like a damsel who brings light to the mortal,
A candle I turn then,
To worship thee,
As by thy glory
Thou light me,
How like Eos
Thou bring dews of the morn,
O, the daughter of Hyperion,
How by thy rise
Thou create words in me that fly.
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