Evening

Oh! thou bright-beaming god, the plains are thirsting, Thirsting for freshening dew, and man is pining; Wearily move on thy horses-- Let, then, thy chariot descend! Seest thou her who, from ocean's crystal billows, Lovingly nods and smiles?--Thy heart must know her! Joyously speed on thy horses,-- Tethys, the goddess, 'tis nods! Swiftly from out his flaming chariot leaping, Into her arms he springs,--the reins takes Cupid,-- Quietly stand the horses, Drinking the cooling flood. Now from the heavens with gentle step descending, Balmy night appears, by sweet love followed; Mortals, rest ye, and love ye,-- Phoebus, the loving one, rests!