As when the Moon, emerging from a cloud,
Sheds on the dreary earth her gracious light,
A smile comes o'er the frowning brow of Night,
Who hastens to withdraw her sable shroud;
And then the lurking shadows' dark-robed crowd,
Pursued with glitt'ring shafts, is put to flight;
And, robed in silv'ry raiment, soft and bright
The humblest flower as a Queen seems proud;

So when thou com'st to me in Beauty's bloom,
And on thy face soft Pity's graces shine,
Thou can'st dispel the heavy shades of gloom
From my sad heart, which ceases then to pine;
And Hope and Joy their quenched beams relume
And gild the universe with light divine.