I hear, while in the forest depth he sees,

The Moon's fix'd gaze between the opening trees, In broken sounds her elder grief demand,

And skyward lift, like one that prays, his hand, If, in that country, where he dwells afar,

His father views that good, that kindly star;

Ah me! all light is mute amid the gloom,

The interlunar cavern, of the tomb.

When low-hung clouds each star of summer hide, And fireless are the valleys far and wide,

Where the brook brawls along the painful road,
Dark with bat-haunted ashes stretching broad,
Oft as she taught them on her lap to play
Delighted, with the glow-worm's harmless ray
Tossed light from hand to hand; while on the
ground

Small circles of green radiance gleam around.

Oh! when the bitter showers her path assail, And roars between the hills the torrent gale.

No more her breath can thaw their fingers cold, Their frozen arms her neck no more can fold; All blind she wilders o'er the lightless heath, Led by Fear's cold wet hand, and dogg'd by Death.

"Now ruthless Tempest launch thy deadliest dart!
Fall fires! - but let us perish heart to heart."
Weak roof a cowering form two babes to shield,
And faint the fire a dying heart can yield;
Press the sad kiss, fond mother! vainly fears
Thy flooded cheek to wet them with its tears;
No tears can chill them, and no bosom warms,
Thy breast their death-bed, coffined in thine arms.

Sweet are the sounds that mingle from afar,
Heard by calm lakes, as peeps the folding star,
Where the duck dabbles 'mid the rustling sedge,
And feeding pike starts from the water's edge,
Or the swan stirs the reeds, his neck and bill
Wetting, that drip upon the water still;
And heron, as resounds the trodden shore,
Shoots upward, darting his long neck before.

Now, with religious awe, the farewell light Blends with the solemn colouring of the night; 'Mid groves of clouds that crest the mountain's brow,

And round the West's proud lodge their shadows

throw,

Like Una shining on her gloomy way,

The half-seen form of Twilight roams astray;

Shedding, through paly loopholes mild and small,
Gleams that upon the lake's still bosom fall,
Beyond the mountain's giant reach that hides
In deep determined gloom his subject tides.
Soft o'er the surface creep those lustres pale,
Tracking the fitful motions of the gale.
With restless interchange at once the bright
Wins on the shade, the shade upon the light.
No favoured eye was e'er allowed to gaze
On lovelier spectacle in faery days;

When gentle Spirits urged a sportive chace,
Brushing with lucid wands the water's face;
While music, stealing round the glimmering deeps,
Charmed the tall circle of th'enchanted steeps.
-The lights are vanished from the watery plains:
No wreck of all the pageantry remains.
Unheeded Night has overcome the vales:
On the dark earth the baffled vision fails
The latest lingerer of the forest train,

;

The lone black fir, forsakes the faded plain; Last evening sight, the cottage smoke, no more, Lost in the thickened darkness, glimmers hoar; And, towering from the sullen dark-brown mere, Like a black wall, the mountain steeps appear.

Now o'er the soothed accordant heart we feel

A sympathetic twilight slowly steal,

And ever, as we fondly muse, we find

The soft gloom deepening on the tranquil mind.
Stay! pensive, sadly-pleasing visions, stay!
Ah no! as fades the vale, they fade away.
Yet still the tender, vacant gloom remains;
Still the cold cheek its shuddering tear retains.
The bird, who ceased, with fading light, to thread
Silent the hedge or steaming rivulet's bed,
From his grey re-appearing tower shall soon
Salute with boding note the rising moon,
Frosting with hoary light the pearly ground,
And pouring deeper blue to Æther's bound;
And pleased her solemn pomp of clouds to fold
In robes of azure, fleecy-white, and gold.

See, o'er the eastern hill, where Darkness broods O'er all its vanished dells, and lawns, and woods; Where but a mass of shade the sight can trace, She lifts in silence up her lovely face;

Above the gloomy valley flings her light,

Far to the western slopes with hamlets white;

And gives, where woods the chequered upland

strew,

To the green corn of summer autumn's hue.

Thus Hope, first pouring from her blessed horn Her dawn, far lovelier than the Moon's own morn; 'Till higher mounted, strives in vain to cheer The weary hills, impervious, blackening near; -Yet does she still, undaunted, throw the while On darling spots remote her tempting smile.

-Ev'n now she decks for me a distant scene, (For dark and broad the gulph of time between) Gilding that cottage with her fondest ray, (Sole bourn, sole wish, sole object of my way; How fair its lawns and sheltering woods appear! How sweet its streamlet murmurs in mine ear!) Where we, my Friend, to happy days shall rise, 'Till our small share of hardly-paining sighs (For sighs will ever trouble human breath) Creep hushed into the tranquil breast of Death. But now the clear-bright Moon her zenith gains, And rimy without speck extend the plains; The deepest dell the mountain's front displays, Scarce hides a shadow from her searching rays; From the dark-blue "faint silvery threads" divide The hills, while gleams below the azure tide; The scene is wakened, yet its peace unbroke, By silvered wreaths of quiet charcoal smoke,