As we continued to advance, the lesser lights and milky ways first grew pale, and then vanished; the countless hosts of heaven dwindled in number by successive millions; those that still shone had tempered their exceeding brightness and fallen back into their customary wistful distance; and the sky declined from its first bewildering splendour into the appearance of a common night. Slowly this change proceeded, and still there was no sign of any cause. Then a whiteness like mist was thrown over the spurs of the mountain. Yet a while, and, as we turned a corner, a great leap of silver light and net of forest shadows fell across the road and upon our wondering wagonful; and, swimming low among the trees, we beheld a strange, misshapen, waning moon, half-tilted on her back.

“Where are ye when the moon appears?” so the old poet sang, half-taunting, to the stars, bent upon a courtly purpose.