Night

From “Queen Mab” HOW beautiful this night! the balmiest sigh Which vernal zephyrs breathe in evening’s ear Were discord to the speaking quietude That wraps this moveless scene. Heaven’s ebon vault, Studded with stars unutterably bright, Through which the moon’s unclouded grandeur rolls, Seems like a canopy which love has spread To curtain her sleeping world. Yon gentle hills, Robed in a garment of untrodden snow: Yon darksome rocks, whence icicles depend So stainless that their white and glittering spires Tinge not the moon’s pure beam; yon castle steep, Whose banner hangeth o’er the time-worn tower So idly that rapt fancy deemeth it A metaphor of peace—all form a scene Where musing solitude might love to lift Her soul above this sphere of earthliness; Where silence undisturbed might watch alone, So cold, so bright, so still. The orb of day In southern climes o’er ocean’s waveless field Sinks sweetly smiling: not the faintest breath Steals o’er the unruffled deep; the clouds of eve Reflect unmoved the lingering beam of day; And vesper’s image on the western main Is beautifully still. To-morrow comes: Cloud upon cloud, in dark and deepening mass, Rolls o’er the blackened waters; the deep roar Of distant thunder mutters awfully; Tempest unfolds its pinion o’er the gloom That shrouds the boiling surge; the pitiless fiend, With all his winds and lightnings, tracks his prey; The torn deep yawns,—the vessel finds a grave Beneath its jaggèd gulf.