Yes, lovely Moon! if thou so mildly bright 40 Dost rouse, yet surely in thy own despite, To fiercer mood the phrenzy-stricken brain, Let me a compensating faith maintain; That there’s a sensitive, a tender, part Which thou canst touch in every human heart, 45 For healing and composure.--But, as least And mightiest billows ever have confessed Thy domination; as the whole vast Sea Feels through her lowest depths thy sovereignty; So shines that countenance with especial grace 50 On them who urge the keel her _plains_ to trace Furrowing its way right onward. The most rude, Cut off from home and country, may have stood-- Even till long gazing hath bedimmed his eye, Or the mute rapture ended in a sigh-- 55 Touched by accordance of thy placid cheer, With some internal lights to memory dear, Or fancies stealing forth to soothe the breast Tired with its daily share of earth’s unrest,-- Gentle awakenings, visitations meek; 60 A kindly influence whereof few will speak, Though it can wet with tears the hardiest cheek. And when thy beauty in the shadowy cave Is hidden, buried in its monthly grave;[18] Then, while the Sailor, ’mid an open sea 65 Swept by a favouring wind that leaves thought free, Paces the deck--no star perhaps in sight, And nothing save the moving ship’s own light To cheer the long dark hours of vacant night-- Oft with his musings does thy image blend, 70 In his mind’s eye thy crescent horns ascend, And thou art still, O Moon, that SAILOR’S FRIEND! [18] Compare-- When thou wert hidden in thy monthly grave, in the lines _Written in a Grotto_, p. 235.--ED. TO THE MOON (RYDAL) Composed 1835.--Published 1837 One of the “Evening Voluntaries.”--ED. Queen of the stars!--so gentle, so benign, That ancient Fable did to thee assign, When darkness creeping o’er thy silver brow Warned thee these upper regions to forego, Alternate empire in the shades below-- 5 A Bard, who, lately near the wide-spread sea Traversed by gleaming ships, looked up to thee With grateful thoughts, doth now thy rising hail From the close confines of a shadowy vale. Glory of night, conspicuous yet serene, 10 Nor less attractive when by glimpses seen Through cloudy umbrage,[19] well might that fair face, And all those attributes of modest grace, In days when Fancy wrought unchecked by fear, Down to the green earth fetch thee from thy sphere, 15 To sit in leafy woods by fountains clear!