JT-36-AN APOSTROPHE TO THE MOON.

AN APOSTROPHE TO THE MOON.

O moon! arise, fair nymph of heav’n.
Unveil thy lovely face,
Shine o’er the hills, light up the ev’n.
Nor stay thy welcome race.

Thou contest forth a blushing maid,
All mantled o’er with gold,
Before thee flies the misty shade,
And clouds are from thee roll’d.

Thy golden beams are hail’d with joy,
Among the woodmen here,
The lonely shepherd and his boy,
With new strung harps appear.

The smiling hills and mountains glow,
With glancing dew-drops bright,
The babbling brooks with pleasure flow
Along the silent night.

I’ve seen thy twinkling beams,
Along the darksome shade,
Then rais’d alone, a solemn song,
And nightly fears were laid.

But in one night of solemn toil,
Thy face shall blush in blood,
And from thy orbit thou shalt roll,
Far through a fiery flood!

Thy deep blue shall then be lost,
Thy disk no more shall glow,
Thyself in wrecks of matter toss’d,
Shall to that ruin go!

But now thou dost in splendor ride,
In thy ethereal car.
Expand thy smiles of gladness wide,
And send thy glories far.

Disperse your clouds, ye winds that blow,
And let this maid of night,
In full effulgence blaze below,
And give the shades her light.

So may my clouds of error fly,
And light within arise,
That I may fear no danger nigh,
Beneath my cloudless skies.