Now to the main the burning sun descends,
And sacred night her gloomy veil extends,
The western sun now shot a feeble ray
And faintly scatter'd the remains of day.
Forty Thousand Quotations: Prose and Poetical (1917)
Now to the main the burning sun descends,
And sacred night her gloomy veil extends,
The western sun now shot a feeble ray
And faintly scatter'd the remains of day.
Forty Thousand Quotations: Prose and Poetical (1917)