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Triumphant Darkness stretched his blackened height

Along the ground of heaven; all bleeding lay

Grim Night upon the heaving breast of Day,

Exulting with a demon’s own delight.

Reviving Sun again, with heaven-born might,

Upflung his hands, far up the eastern gray,

From the shining quiver of Divinity

Drew forth his shafts, white-hot with God’s own light,

And pierced the mail of Night, blood-rusting red,

With countless dazzling fire-tipped darts of gold.

Down into the Lethal power of Chaos dread

Sank vanquished Night with all the damned dead!

And ever over Darkness, ages old,

Triumphant ruleth Light,—the great Godhead!