The sun arises in the East, Cloth'd in robes of blood and gold; swords and spears and wrath increas'd all around his bossom roll'd, crown'd with warlike fires and raging desires.

Joys upon our branches sit,
Chirping loud and singing sweet;
Like gentle streams beneath our feet
Innocence and virtue meet.

Thou the golden fruit dost bear,
I am clad in flowers fair;
Thy sweet boughs perfume the air,
And the turtle buildeth there.

Love and harmony combine,
And around our souls entwine
While thy branches mix with mine,
And our roots together join.

There she sits and feeds her young,
Sweet I hear her mournful song.
And thy lovely leaves among.
There is love, I hear his tongue.

There his charming nest doth lay,
There he sleeps the night away;
There he sports along the day,
And doth among our branches play.