The kindling stars flung forth, and yellow moon
What to a poet could be such a boon,
As thus to ride the waters as a sprite;
With such a sky above and earth below,
Thus o’er the glittering waters, thus to go?
To see the beauty of that starry eve,
To list the melody the spirits weave
At that still hour: to watch the varying scene;
Here towering rock frowning in grand array,
Whence springs the eagle forth to welcome day;