To tell you all that passed
Would far exceed my power;
Suffice it, then, to say,
Joy winged the passing hour,
Till, ere we knew,
The setting day
Had clad the world
In silver grey.

I kindly took my leave,
And blessed the happy lot
Of those I left behind
Lodged in their humble cot;
And pitied some
In palace walls,
Where pride torments,
And pleasure palls.

The silver moon now shed
A flood of trembling light
On tower, and tree, and stream;
The twinkling stars shone bright,
Nor misty stain
Nor cloud was seen
O'er all the deep
Celestial green.

Mild was the lovely night,
Nor stirred a whispering breeze.
Smooth was the glassy lake,