NIGHT.

G

IGHT, dew-lipp'd, comes, and every gleaming star
Its silent place assigns in yonder sky;
The moon walks forth, and fields and groves

afar,

Touch'd by her light, in silver beauty lie
In solemn peace, that no sound comes to mar;
Hamlets and peopled cities slumber nigh:
While on this rock, in meditation's mien,
Lord of the unconscious world, I sit unseen.

How deep the quiet of this pensive hour!
Nature bids labour cease-and all obey.
How sweet this stillness, in its magic power
O'er hearts that know her voice and own
her sway!

Stillness unbroken, save when from the flower
The whirling locust takes his upward way ;
And, murmuring o'er the verdant turf, is heard
The passing brook-or leaf by breezes stirr❜d.

Borne on the pinions of Night's freshening air,
Unfetter'd thoughts with calm reflection come ;
And fancy's train, that shuns the daylight glare,

To wake when midnight shrouds the heavens in gloom :
Now tranquil joys, and hopes untouch'd by care,

Within my bosom throng to seek a home;
While far around the brooding darkness spreads,
And o'er the soul its pleasing sadness sheds.

Pindemonte.

NIGHT.

IGHT is the time for rest;

How sweet, when labours close,
To gather round an aching breast
The curtain of repose,

Stretch the tired limbs, and lay the head

Down on our own delightful bed!

Night is the time for dreams;

The gay romance of life,

When truth that is, and truth that seems,

Mix in fantastic strife:

Ah! visions, less beguiling far

Than waking dreams by daylight are !

Night is the time for toil;

To plough the classic field,
Intent to find the buried spoil

Its wealthy furrows yield;
Till all is ours that sages taught,
That poets sang and heroes wrought.

Night is the time to weep;

To wet with unseen tears

Those graves of memory where sleep

The joys of other years;

Hopes, that were angels at their birth,
But died when young, like things of earth.

Night is the time to watch;

O'er ocean's dark expanse, To hail the Pleiades, or catch