Thou fair-haired angel of the evening,
Now, whilst the sun rests on the mountains,
Thy bright torch of love; thy radiant
Put on, and smile upon our evening bed!
Smile on our loves, and while thou drawest
Blue curtains of the sky, scatter thy silver
On every flower that shuts its sweet
In timely sleep.
Let thy west wing sleep
The lake; speak silence with thy glimmering eyes,
And wash the dusk with silver.
Soon, full soon,
Dost thou withdraw; then the wolf rages wide,
And the lion glares through the dun forest.
The fleeces of our flocks are covered
Thy sacred dew; protect with them with thine influence.
