The poem
SISTER of the first-born light,
Type of sorrowing gentleness!
Quivering mists in silv'ry dress Float around thy features bright; When thy gentle foot is heard,
From the day-closed caverns then
Wake the mournful ghosts of men, I, too, wake, and each night-bird.
O'er a field of boundless span
Looks thy gaze both far and wide.
Raise me upwards to thy side! Grant this to a raving man! And to heights of rapture raised,
Let the knight so crafty peep
At his maiden while asleep, Through her lattice-window glazed.
Soon the bliss of this sweet view,
Pangs by distance caused allays;
And I gather all thy rays, And my look I sharpen too. Round her unveil'd limbs I see
Brighter still become the glow,
And she draws me down below, As Endymion once drew thee.
1767-9.