From a (second) printed collection of glees by members of the Harmonic Society of Cambridge, 1799.

Lyrics: Charlotte Smith

Queen of the silver bow! By thy pale beam,
Alone and pensive I delight to stray
And watch thy shadow trembling in the stream,
Or mark the floating clouds that cross thy way.
Still, while I gaze, thy mild and placid light
Sheds a calm upon my troubled breast;
And oft I think, fair planet of the night,
That in thy orb the wretched may have rest.
The suff'rers of the earth perhaps may go
Released by death to thy benignant sphere;
And the sad children of despair and woe
Forget in thee their cup of sorrow here.
Oh! That I soon may reach thy world serene,
Poor wearied pilgrim in this toiling scene.