Classic Poem

Thou lovely Sorc'ress of the witching Night,
Whose paly Charms thro' sombre Regions glide;
Lur'd by the Softness of thy silver Light,
The Muse pathetic glows with conscious Pride.

On the gem'd Margin of the lustrous Flood,
Whose ripling Waters glide so sweetly by;
Oft have I list'ning to its Murmurs stood,
Trac'd thy pure Ray, and wing'd a lonely Sigh!

For Thou , chaste C YNTHIA , o'er my gentle Soul,
Shed'st the mild Beam of Contemplation's Sway;
Thy fascinating Spell with proud Controul
Sweeps the full Cadence of my trembling Lay:

Then gleam, bright Orb, from Midnight's velvet Vest,
And dart thy pearly Lustre o'er my pensive Breast.