Behold the Lightener of the stars,
On the crests of the clouds,
And the silver singers of the sky
Lauding him.
Coming down with acclaim
From the palaces above,
Harp and lyre of song
Sounding to him.
O Idris, bearer of my hope,
Why should I not raise thy fame!
Faeries and elves melodious
Singing to thee.
Thou son of the Goddess of Night
Of exceeding white purity of beauty,
Joy were it to me to play in the fields
Of thy tiny lanterns.
O Idris, my hope,
O Idris of the celestial houses,
At the dawn of eventide,
I will praise thee.
