Tarry, thou golden sun, upon our hills,
Our own bohemian hills — above our woods;
O tarry: 'tis alone thine influence fills
With rays of light Bohemia's solitudes;
And as thy mission is of peace and joy,
Chace thou the evil dreams of darkness — pour
Bright greetings — and the shades of grief destroy,
And bless the love which calls thee to watch o'er
And witness its deep faithfulness — Awake
Some splendor in mine eyes, and bear to her,
Beneath whose influence, and for whose sweet sake
I would be gay — O golden monarch! bear
To her all beams of beauty and of bliss,
And let thy smile — cheeks, lips, and eyelids kiss.