38
MIDNIGHT.1825.
Now Night her sable mantle wraps around,
And reigns, in mute and solemn stillness, o 'er
The slumbering globe.—Sunk in repose supine,
The varied mass of animated being
Lies silent; and the power of active thought,
In deep oblivion sealed, no longer heeds
The pleasures, cares, and woes of toilsome life;
Unless, perchance, a glimmering dream traverse
The brain, with semblance of past scenes; of joys,
Extatic some, and some of sober cast;
And tortured some, with frightful images
Of intermingling horror and despair.
And reigns, in mute and solemn stillness, o 'er
The slumbering globe.—Sunk in repose supine,
The varied mass of animated being
Lies silent; and the power of active thought,
In deep oblivion sealed, no longer heeds
The pleasures, cares, and woes of toilsome life;
Unless, perchance, a glimmering dream traverse
The brain, with semblance of past scenes; of joys,
Extatic some, and some of sober cast;
And tortured some, with frightful images
Of intermingling horror and despair.
Others to rest resigned; alone I wake,
Weary and sad; and silent cast my eyes
Around the solemn scene: no voice is heard;
No footsteps move: a perfect stillness reigns,
Save the light breeze that sighs in softened sounds,
And plaintive murmurs round the casement lone.
The pensive stars glow faintly: the fair moon
Has risen on high, in majesty serene.
How mildly beams her soft quiescent light,
As if ordained to inspire tranquillity,
And fill the soul with sentiments benign.
How far from me is sweet tranquillity!
Weary and sad; and silent cast my eyes
Around the solemn scene: no voice is heard;
No footsteps move: a perfect stillness reigns,
Save the light breeze that sighs in softened sounds,
And plaintive murmurs round the casement lone.
The pensive stars glow faintly: the fair moon
Has risen on high, in majesty serene.
How mildly beams her soft quiescent light,
As if ordained to inspire tranquillity,
And fill the soul with sentiments benign.
How far from me is sweet tranquillity!
