Now eve her dewy course began
With tints of sable hue,
And o'er the earth, by zephyrs fann'd
Her twilight mantle threw;
Silence accompanied the scene,
For beast and bird were still,
These to their nest, they to the green,
Were couch'd by fount or rill,
And left the bladed field or dale,
Where oft their notes were heard,
All but the wakeful nightingale:
She all night long, sweet bird,
And lovel'est songstress of the night,
Her am'rous desoant sung,
Nor cease'd her notes, till morning light
High in the east had sprung;
Nor scarcely then, for all day long
Had tun'd her mellow throat,
And yet at evening coming on
Renew'd her tuneful note;
But for awhile, to rest her wing,
Lit on a neighb'ring hill,
And chang'd her note tho' sweet had been,
And now sung" whip-poor-will."
Now glow'd the high celestial arch
With living sapphires spread,
And gems that twinkled thro' the dark,
On by Hesperus led:
At length the silver queen of night
Her majesty displays,
Rising, unveil'd her peerless light
And shed her silver rays.
When Adam thus to Eve: "E'er blest,
Fair consort, th' hour of night,
And all things now retir'd to rest,
'Mind us t' repose alike;
Since God hath set labor and rest
To men as day and night,
Alternate each by the other blest,
Dark, sleep, for work the light;
But other creatures idle rove,
Or quite inactive keep;
Or graze their fill in field or grove,
And less need rest or sleep.
Man hath his daily word assign'd,
Which shows his dignity;
His work of body or of mind
God gave benignantly;
Other creatures inactive range,
And God takes no account
Of what they do, nor is it strange,
For what can it amount.
Ere morn again the cast shall streak
And night again be driv❜n,
Long ere the sun the mountains meet,
We must, indeed, be risen
And at our labors, to reform
Yon flow'ry arbors gay,
Yon alleys green, yon thicket lorn,
Our walk at high noon day,
That mock our secret maneuv'ring quite,
And ask more hands than ours
To lop their growth, and teach them right
To grow in shady bow'rs;
Such is our lot, with bounty blest.
Meanwhile, since evening fair,
As nature wills, night bids us rest
And to suspend our care.'
To whom thus Eve, angelic fair,
Thus to her husband plain:
"Whate'er thou bid'st I will obey,
So God all-swise ordain.
With thee conversing, I forget
All time, all seasons too,
All please alike without regret,
Alike all sweet and new:
Sweet is the breath of early morn,
Her rising sweet, indeed;
Fragrant with dew the fertile earth,
And sweet the flow'ry mead;
Pleasant the sun when first he shines
On this delightful land,
And spreads his beams upon all kinds,
By morning breezes fann'd,
On herb, on tree, on fruit and flow'r,
Glist'ning with pearly dew;
Pleasant in high meridian hour
His beams' full blaze to view;
Fragrant the fertile earth again,
After a gentle show'r,
And sweeter smiles the fertile plain,
And lovel'er seems each bow'r ;
And sweet indeed the coming on
Of grateful evening mild,
Then silent night, cheer'd with the song
Of this sweet Philomel,
And this fair moon, the queen of night,
And these the gems of Heav'n,
Her starry train, with twinkling light,
To cheer the gloom of even.
But neither breath of smiling morn,
Nor charm of earliest bird;
Nor rising sun on field, or lawn,
Or flower, or fruit, or herb,
Glist'ning with dew, as gems of Heav'n;
Nor fragrance after shower,
Nor coming on of grateful even,
Nor night's more silent hour,
With this her sole, her solemn bird;
Nor walk at high noon heat,
By groves of fruit, or flower, or herb,
Without thee e'er is sweet.
But wherefore, all night long, shine these?
For whom this glorious sight,
When all from play or labor cease,
Wrapt in the gloom of night?"
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