Midnight

Tis midnight oer the dim meres lonely bosom, Dark, dusky, windy midnight: swift are driven The swelling vapours onward: every blossom Bathes its bright petals in the tears of heaven. Imperfect, half-seen objects meet the sight, The other half our fancy must pourtray; A wan, dull, lengthend sheet of swimming light Lies the broad lake: the moon conceals her ray, Sketchd faintly by a pale and lurid gleam Shot thro the glimmering clouds: the lovely planet Is shrouded in obscurity; the scream Of owl is silencd; and the rocks of granite Rise tall and drearily, while damp and dank Hang the thick willows on the reedy bank. Beneath, the gurgling eddies slowly creep, Blackend by foliage; and the glutting wave, That saps eternally the cold grey steep, Sounds heavily within the hollow cave. All earth is restlessfrom his glossy wing The heath-fowl lifts his head at intervals; Wet, driving, rainy, come the bursting squalls; All nature wears her dun dead covering. Tempest is gatherd, and the brooding storm Spreads its black mantle oer the mountains form; And, mingled with the rising roar, is swelling, From the far hunters booth, the blood hounds yelling. The water-falls in various cadence chiming, Or in one loud unbroken sheet descending, Salute each other thro the nights dark womb; The moaning pine-trees to the wild blast bending, Are pictured faintly thro the chequerd gloom; The forests, half-way up the mountain climbing, Resound with crash of falling branches; quiver Their aged mossy trunks: the startled doe Leaps from her leafy lair: the swelling river Winds his broad stream majestic, deep, and slow.