Thus when the Egg of Night

Thus when the Egg of Night, on Chaos hurl'd,
Burst, and disclosed the cradle of the world;
First from the gaping shell refulgent sprung
IMMORTAL LOVE, his bow celestial strung;--
O'er the wide waste his gaudy wings unfold,
Beam his soft smiles, and wave his curls of gold;--
With silver darts He pierced the kindling frame,
And lit with torch divine the ever-living flame.

About Thomas Moore

Irish poet and songwriter, friend of Byron, celebrated for Irish Melodies and lyrical romantic verse.

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