In timely sleep
let thou fair-hair’d
anga lake speak silence.

Now, whilst the sun rests
and wash the dusk
with thy bright torch
of dost thou withdrawal;

Put on, and smile,
and then the lion glares,
smiles on our loves, and
the fleeces of our blue
curtains of the sky

THY SACRED DEW:
protect every flower as
west winds sleep on gel
of the evening,
with thy glimmering eyes,
on the mountains,
light silver.

Soon, full soon love,
thy radiant crown
in the wolf rages wide
upon our evening bed!

Through the dun forest,
while thou drawest the
flocks are cover’d with
the scatter,

thy silver dew.

Hemmed with thine influence —
shuts
its
sweet
eyes.