439 Lydia
Bright glories rush upon my sight, And charm my wond'ring eyes – The regions of immortal light, The beauties of the skies. All hail, ye fair, celestial shores, Ye lands of endless day! A rich delight your prospect pours, And drives my griefs away. There's a delightful clear sun now, My clouds of doubt are gone; Fled is my former darkness too, My fears are all withdrawn. |