What sudden blaze of majesty Is that which we from hence descry To whom our vows and wishes bend Here our solemn search has end Mother of a hundred gods Divine creation give her odds Who had thought this clime had held A deity, numinous and unparalleled This this is she - sitting like a goddess bright This this is she - in the center of her light Mark what radiant state she spreads In circle round her shining throne Scatter radiance like silver shreds This this is she To the celestial sirens harmony And turn the adamantine spindle round On which the fate of gods and men is wound This this is she Fame that her high worth to raise Once seemed so lavish and profuse We may justly now accuse Of detraction from her praise
