Classic Poem

'Twas Night, underneath her starry vest
The prattling loves were hidden, and their arts
Practised so cunningly upon our hearts,
That never felt they sweeter scorn and jest:
Thousands of amorous thefts their skill attest.
All kindly hidden by the gloom from day;
A thousand visions in each trembling ray
Flitted around in bright false splendor drest:
The clear pure moon rolled on her azure way
Without a cloud to dim her silver light
And high-born beauty made our revels gay
Reflecting back on Heaven beams as bright,
Which even with the dawn fled not away —
When chased the Sun such lovely ghosts from night?