The sun at length sank beneath the floor of earth, and the windows of Heaven began to throw forth their each particular ray of light. As we sat there, watching those far away, twinkling points, I could not refrain from wondering why the Saints and Angels there all seem so busy in the still night time; as can be seen by their passing and repassing of the windows, in never ceasing numbers, each casting a fleeting shadow as he goes. As the light on earth kept fading, more shades in Heaven were drawn aback, as though the kindly folk up there would lend to us more cheer.
Then the pale and trouble-featured moon raised up her hairless head above the earth's surface, and slowly climbed she up the Heaven's arch.
As the sounds of the armourers and the grooms died out, the nightingale did make his voice more plainly heard, as he hurled down, from his perch beside the field, upon our ears, his darts of Heaven's own joy. Aslanting did the music come, as borne by the gentle evening breeze it fell, like April's rain, into our ears and drenched our hearts with sweetness.
The wide-eyed frogs, far from the field, as they sat on their floating thrones, flung, from their baggy throats, at the stars, as countless as themselves, their quavering coward-challenges of battle. Yet no doubt these were as well meant as some we should hear to-morrow.
The moon now stood well up the sky and therefore, when the flap was closed a trifle, shone not far back into the tent.
The nightingale had ceased to sing.
The frogs still hurled their insolence.
Frederick and I, who had been in silence sitting for some time, arose and walked back under our covering. Michael followed, and, when we had laid down, stretched his huge frame across the opening. How like a lifeless statue there he lay; his arms locked o'er his chest. 'Twas seven feet of Hercules, as broad as two good men. Gazing at this picture of strength and loyalty, the latter shown in his firm-cut, honest face, with our shields beneath our heads, my friend and I sank into sleep.