'Tis when some ling'ring stars scarce shed
O'er the mist-clad mountain's head
Their fairy beam;
Then one by one, retiring, shroud,
Dim glitt'ring through a fleecy cloud,
Their last faint gleam.
'Tis when (just waked from transient death
By some fresh zephyr's balmy breath),
Th' unfolding rose
Sheds on the air its rich perfume,
While every bud with deeper bloom
And beauty glows.
'Tis when fond nature (genial power!)
Weeps o'er each drooping night-closed flower,
While softly fly
Those doubtful mists, that leave to view
Each glowing scene of various hue
That charms the eye.
Nor day, nor night, this hour can claim,
Nor moonlight ray, nor noontide beam,
Does it betray;
But fresh, reviving, dewy, sweet,
It hastes the glowing hours to meet
Of rising day.
How sweet the fall of eve,
When in the glowing west
The sun hath sunk to rest,
Yet shining footprints on the air doth leave;
While through the deep'ning twilight, soft and slow,
The fragrant evening breezes come and go!
How beautiful, when light
Hath fled; and leaf and stream
Rest in a quiet dream,
Within the curtaining shadows of the night;
While troops of stars look down with dewy rays,
And flowers droop their eyes beneath their gaze.
How silent is the air!
Who would not at such shrine
To holier thoughts incline?
The ever-tranquil night was made for prayer.
On the hush'd Earth, from the o'erarching sky,
Doth not a solemn benediction lie?
And when the hours of night
Have slowly roll'd away,
And the victorious day
Athwart the kindling air speeds arrowy light,
How gloriously, as in a second birth,
Awake to radiant life the heavens and earth!
EVENING.
How like a tender mother,
With loving thoughts beguil'd,
Fond nature seems to lull to rest
Each faint and weary child!
Drawing the curtain tenderly,
Affectionate and mild.
Hark! to the gentle lullaby,
That through the trees is creeping,
Those sleepy trees that nod their heads,
Ere the moon as yet comes peeping,
Like a tender nurse, to see if all
Her little ones are sleeping.
One little flutt'ring bird,
Like a child in a dream of pain,
Has chirp'd and started
Then nestled down again,
Oh! a child and a bird, as they sink to rest,
Are as like as any twain.
TWILIGHT.
AVE MARIA! blessed be the hour,
The time, the clime, the spot, when I so oft
Have felt that moment in its fullest power
Sink o'er the earth so beautiful and soft;
While swung the deep bell in the distant tower,
Or the faint dying day hymn stole aloft;
And not a breath crept through the rosy air,
And yet the forest leaves seemed stirred with prayer.
Soft hour! which wakes the wish and melts the heart
Of those who sail the seas, on the first day
When they from their sweet friends are torn apart;
Or fills with love the pilgrim on his way,
As the far bell of vesper makes him start,
Seeming to weep the dying day's decay.
CALM is the fragrant air, and loth to lose
Day's grateful warmth, though moist with falling dews. Look for the stars, you'll say that there are none;
Look up a second time, and, one by one,
You mark them twinkling out with silvery light,
And wonder how they could elude the sight;
The birds, of late so noisy in their bowers,
Warbled a while with faint and fainter powers,
But now are silent as the dim-seen flowers.
Now eve descends in meek array,
More welcome than the gaudy day;
The clouds forsake the upper sky,
To settle on some mountain high;
Or round the sunset's crimson close
In variegated piles repose.
Faint, more faint, and fainter still,
Stealing on o'er vale and hill,
The chimes from distant turret gray
Into silence fade away.
The hamlet swarms with rustic poor,
At gossip by the cottage-door;
Guided by little urchin strong,
Homeward creeps the team along ;
The children, heedless to be seen,
Bathe in the pond upon the green;
Whence along their beaten track
March the geese in order back.
From the cot beside the oak
Mounts a slender thread of smoke,
Telling with what thrifty care
Its two old dames their meal prepare;
While from open lattice nigh
Notes of village harmony,
Meeting in a cadence clear,
Catch the idly listening ear.
Now then the pensive task be mine,
As into dusk the tints decline,
In meditative mood to stray
Along some brier-scented way;
Where, perch'd beside her leafy nest,
The linnet trills her young to rest.
There let me muse, all else forgot,
On the strange tide of human lot;
How brief the measure of our day;
On death's approach, on life's decay ;
On former times, on future things;
On all our vain imaginings ;-
Till over fading lawn and mead
Their silver net the dews have spread;
And the pale glow-worm shows her light,
To guide me home at fall of night.
As when the moon, refulgent lamp of night,
O'er heaven's clear azure spreads her sacred light ;
When not a breath disturbs the deep serene,
And not a cloud o'ercasts the solemn scene,
Around her throne the vivid planets roll,
And stars unnumber'd gild the glowing pole,
O'er the dark trees a yellow verdure shed,
And tip with silver every mountain's head;
Then shine the vales; the rocks in prospect rise;
A flood of glory bursts from all the skies:
The conscious swains, rejoicing in the sight,
Eye the blue vault and bless the useful light.
Pope's "Homer."
Stars have set their watch at last,
Founts that thro'.the deep woods flow
Make sweet sounds, unheard till now,
Flowers have shut with fading light—
Good night!
Sleep sit, dove-like, on thy breast!
If within thy secret cell,
One dark form of memory dwell,
Be it mantled from thy sight-
Good night!
Kind looks o'er thy slumber shine!
Go, and in the distant land
Meet thy home's long-parted band,
Be their eyes all love and light—
Good night!
|