Her trembling crescent sheds its light,
Trembling and pale, upon thine ancient brow.
The moon is thine, and round her orb
A thousand sweet stars minister,
Whose twinkling rays dark wells absorb,
And all the wide seas drink them far and near.
They kiss the wide sea, and swift smiles
Of gladness o’er the waters creep;
Old hoary rocks rejoice, and isles,
And there is glory on the slumbering deep