Janus
The storm is spent, billows recede, the sea is swept with calm;
Now rest your weary head a while, don’t curse the night’s travail.
Soon the sun would lash your slumber with its fiery beams;
Daybreak’s zephyr’s silent chants are glad to fill your sails.
Look back, but with fond eye, my friend, turn round to lore awaiting you;
Let grace return to word and deed, let sorrows cleave to hymns of joy.
