SONNET LIX.
WRITTEN SEPT. 1791, DURING A REMARKABLE
THUNDER STORM IN WHICH THE MOON WAS
PERFECTLY CLEAR, WHILE THE TEMPEST
GATHERED IN VARIOUS DIRECTIONS
NEAR THE EARTH.
WHAT awful pageants crowd the evening sky!
The low horizon gathering vapours shroud;
Sudden, from many a deep-embattled cloud
Terrific thunders burst and lightnings fly—
While in serenest azure, beaming high,
Night's regent, of her calm pavilion proud,
Gilds the dark shadows that beneath her lie,
Unvex'd by all their conflicts fierce and loud.
So, in unsullied dignity elate,
A spirit conscious of superior worth,
In placid elevation firmly great,
Scorns the vain cares that give Contention birth;
And blest with peace above the shocks of Fate,
Smiles at the tumult of the troubled earth.
