I THE day grows hot, and darts his rays From such a sure and killing place, That this half world are fain to fly The danger of his burning eye. II His early glories were benign, Warm to be felt, bright to be seen, And all was comfort, but who can Endure him when Meridian? III Of him we as of Kings complain, Who mildly do begin to reign, But to the Zenith got of pow'r, Those whom they should protect devour. IV Has not another Phaethon Mounted the chariot of the sun, And, wanting art to guide his horse, Is hurri'd from the sun's due course? V If this hold on, our fertile lands, Will soon be turn'd to parched sands, And not an onion that will grow Without a Nile to overflow. VI The grazing herds now droop and pant, E'en without labour fit to faint, And willingly forsook their meat, To seek out cover from the heat. VII The lagging ox is now unbound, From larding the new turn'd up ground, Whilst Hobbinal alike o'er-laid, Takes his coarse dinner to the shade. VIII Cellars and grottos now are best To eat and drink in, or to rest, And not a soul above is found Can find a refuge under ground. IX When pagan tyranny grew hot, Thus persecuted Christians got Into the dark but friendly womb Of unknown subterranean Rome. X And as that heat did cool at last, So a few scorching hours o'er pass'd, In a more mild and temp'rate ray We may again enjoy the day. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ODE TO REMORSE by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD A GARDEN SPOT by PRINGLE BARRET GOLD AND STEEL; THE ANSWER by LOUISA SARAH BEVINGTON THE CENTAUR FABULOUS by JOHN BYROM ANSWER TO LINES WRITTEN IN ROUSSEAU'S LETTERS OF AN ITALIAN NUN by GEORGE GORDON BYRON |