Grecian Sunset

In perfect Kingliness now reigns the Sun;
At morn, as one who girds himself for speed,
A Hero prompt to do a mighty deed,
And not to rest until the deed be done,
He rose:--at noon he wore the guise of one,
Who feels the purpose that his will decreed
Half--perfect, and goes onward to his meed,
Stronger than were his labour just begun;
And now his aim attained, his triumph known,
In conscious dignity he mounts his throne
Of golden air, and ere the eve can spread
Her pale--rose veil above his royal head,
No courtier clouds around him, to the bed
Of a victorious rest, he passes all alone.