| LO! in the orient when the gracious light | |
| Lifts up his burning head, each under eye | |
| Doth homage to his new-appearing sight, | |
| Serving with looks his sacred majesty; | |
| And having climb’d the steep-up heavenly hill, | 5 |
| Resembling strong youth in his middle age, | |
| Yet mortal looks adore his beauty still, | |
| Attending on his golden pilgrimage; | |
| But when from highmost pitch, with weary car, | |
| Like feeble age, he reeleth from the day, | 10 |
| The eyes, ’fore duteous, now converted are | |
| From his low tract, and look another way: | |
| So thou, thyself outgoing in thy noon, | |
| Unlook’d on diest, unless thou get a son. |