Classic Poem

R ECIT .

The silver moon serenely shone,
And night appear'd as day;
But e'er her course was well begun
She rudely stole away.

A IR

Gentle orb of radiant fire,
Sweet adorner of the night,
Why dost thou in glooms retire
And conceal thy sacred light?

Scorching Phoebus all the day
Reigns with too tyrannic heat;
But fair Cynthia's milder sway
Is the shepherd's sole retreat.

R ECIT .

Thus in a melancholy glade
Endymion hail'd the heavenly maid,
Whose beams forsook the clouds with joyful pride
While to the swain the goddess thus reply'd.

A IR

Shepherd, cease this fond complaining;
Do not thus ungrateful prove;
You 'gainst Cynthia are exclaiming,
While for you she burns for love.

Bless this happy, kind occasion,
Bless your more prevailing charms,
That, without the least persuasion,
Yield a goddess to your arms.