I make his crescent fill or lack,

I make his crescent fill or lack,
His nature is at full
Or quarter—as I signify,
His tides do I control.

He holds superior in the sky
Or gropes at my command
Behind inferior clouds,
Or round a mist's slow colonnade.

But since we hold a mutual disc
And front a mutual day,
Which is the despot neither knows—
Nor whose the tyranny.