THE CITY LIES AT EASE UPON THE NIGHT.
THE City lies at ease upon the night: Her bed is hung with jewels — glorious one! And all her palaces are but a throne Of splendour, sparkling in the joy of light.
And over all the region of the spheres There booms her song of night and light and fire, Her fierce tempestuous challenge of desire, That fails not, nor shall fail in future years.
Cry that the night hath hid thee not, and still Proclaim in strident clarions all thy might; Let laughing tumult leap from hill to hill: Thou blessed one, my City of the night!