Poems (Campbell)/Midnight Scene
MIDNIGHT SCENE.
Now midnight draws her murky veil,
Now the sad Spirit of the gale
Within his humid rocky cave
Sits moaning to the dashing wave;
The angry demons of the deep
Are gone to rest—the storm's asleep;
And ev'ry sound is hush'd to rest,
Save zephyr rippling Ocean's breast,
How full and round the moon appears!
O'er the ward-hill her head she rears,
While on the smooth and glassy streams,
Lightly dance her silv'ry beams.
The fairies, deck'd with daisies trim,
Dance upon the clear loch's brim,
On the grassy border play,
And bask them in the lunar ray.
Or where green ocean's billow laves,
Some sea-nymph charms the list'ning waves,
And seated on some rocky steep
Sings the dangers of the deep;
She sings of many a gallant tar,
That oft had brav'd the dubious war,
Returning home to greet once more
His lov'd and long-lost native shore,
And fly to her whose image dear
In ev'ry toil had yet been near;
Like some attending angel-pow'r
Had sooth'd him in each fearful hour,
When battle rag'd, or hurtling storm
Howl'd o'er the vessel's dusky form,
And still had cheer'd with sacred beam
His daily thought and nightly dream.
A fair wind fills the swelling sails,
And joy o'er ev'ry heart prevails,
As on they speed to Britain's isle
Where Freedom, Peace, and Valour smile.
But ah! the flatt'ring calm is o'er,—
Sailors! ye see your homes no more!
The demons of the storm arise,
And lo! a wreck the vessel lies.
In vain the trembling maid shall mourn,
And chide her sailor's slow return:
That hero, dash'd on rugged shore,
To her, alas! returns no more,
But lock'd in death's long, dreary sleep,
Slumbers in the cozy deep!
His grave by sea-green nymphs is deck'd,
Nor shall the pensive choir neglect
To sing his requiem, sad and clear,:
And soothe the Spirit wandering near;
And oft when night's deep shadows lour
Their heav'n-taught melody shall pour
O'er the broad ocean's stormy breast,
And charm the swelling waves to rest.
Now the sad Spirit of the gale
Within his humid rocky cave
Sits moaning to the dashing wave;
The angry demons of the deep
Are gone to rest—the storm's asleep;
And ev'ry sound is hush'd to rest,
Save zephyr rippling Ocean's breast,
How full and round the moon appears!
O'er the ward-hill her head she rears,
While on the smooth and glassy streams,
Lightly dance her silv'ry beams.
The fairies, deck'd with daisies trim,
Dance upon the clear loch's brim,
On the grassy border play,
And bask them in the lunar ray.
Or where green ocean's billow laves,
Some sea-nymph charms the list'ning waves,
And seated on some rocky steep
Sings the dangers of the deep;
She sings of many a gallant tar,
That oft had brav'd the dubious war,
Returning home to greet once more
His lov'd and long-lost native shore,
And fly to her whose image dear
In ev'ry toil had yet been near;
Like some attending angel-pow'r
Had sooth'd him in each fearful hour,
When battle rag'd, or hurtling storm
Howl'd o'er the vessel's dusky form,
And still had cheer'd with sacred beam
His daily thought and nightly dream.
A fair wind fills the swelling sails,
And joy o'er ev'ry heart prevails,
As on they speed to Britain's isle
Where Freedom, Peace, and Valour smile.
But ah! the flatt'ring calm is o'er,—
Sailors! ye see your homes no more!
The demons of the storm arise,
And lo! a wreck the vessel lies.
In vain the trembling maid shall mourn,
And chide her sailor's slow return:
That hero, dash'd on rugged shore,
To her, alas! returns no more,
But lock'd in death's long, dreary sleep,
Slumbers in the cozy deep!
His grave by sea-green nymphs is deck'd,
Nor shall the pensive choir neglect
To sing his requiem, sad and clear,:
And soothe the Spirit wandering near;
And oft when night's deep shadows lour
Their heav'n-taught melody shall pour
O'er the broad ocean's stormy breast,
And charm the swelling waves to rest.