HIDE this one night thy crescent, kindly Moon,
So shall Endymion faithful prove, and rest
Loving and unawakened on thy breast;
So shall no foul enchanter importune
Thy quiet course, for now the night is boon,
And through the friendly night unseen I fare
Who dread the face of foemen unaware,
And watch of hostile spies in the bright noon.
Thou know’st, O Moon, the bitter power of Love.
’Tis told how shepherd Pan found ways to move
With a small gift thy heart; and of your grace,
Sweet stars, be kind to this not alien fire,
Because on earth ye did not scorn desire,
Bethink ye, now ye hold your heavenly place.