Image of love that fain would linger where
His presence has been owned with warm delight,
And forcefully withdraws his parting sight,
“And all himself transfuses in that look
As bright as gentle. Mortal eye may brook
The radiance that before it could not scan.
There too pale Dian timidly draws nigh,
Lost in the richer glory of the sky.
Hail thee, fair crescent, hail! No evil ban
From wicked fiend, or sprite, can mar the glow,