Chapter XIX

Mark! the bright moon, thro’ azure sky,
Sails slow, in conscious majesty!
No cloud o’er all the heav’n is seen,
But, like the spirit of a dream,
When nought of earth dare intervene,
She darts around her softest beam!
It glitters on the rippling stream;
It dwells along the hillock’s side;
It sleeps upon the ocean’s tide;
It sparkles o’er the forest wide;
And every shrub, and every flower,
Owns its soft sway, and magic power:
The dew drops, on the velvet green,
Glitter beneath the radiance sheen;
Around, in wild profusion spread,
The violet droops its modest head,
The daisy rears its pensile stem,
Dressing the turf with many a gem;
A chequer’d carpet, spangled meet
For sprightly dance of fairy feet.
Titania, as in ancient days
She liv’d in Shakespeare’s magic lays,--
Might o’er the turf unearthly glance,
And lead the circles of the dance;
With Oberon in concert move,
The peerless Queen of airy love.