Midnight Wanderings.

Blue is the vault of heaven—the gems, 1
The thousand flaming diadems, 2
That deck the midnight throne of June, 3
Are glittering silently—the moon, 4
To silver o’er the eastern wave,5
Leaves not her interlunar cave6
All, all is still—no wandering breeze7
Disturbs the air, or stirs the trees ; 8
The wings of silence overspread9
Alike the living and the dead, 10
And darkness o’er the land and sea11
Hangs down her shadows gloomily.12
Yes, there are times when thoughts of rest13
Are banished, and the vacant breast, 14
To meditation prone, instils15
A heavier sense of mortal ills ; 16
When couches cannot yield repose ; 17
When slumber cannot mantle woes ; 18
When o’er the agonized brain19
Comes Memory, with her busy train20
Of hopes and visions, cherish’d long21
A look—a thought—a word—a song22
That conjures up the past, can make23
A fire, that water cannot slake ; 24
A tempest fierce to roar and roll ; 25
A wild volcano of the soul : 26
Yea, in a dream, this very night, 27
Hath Recollection held her light, 28
Her flaming torch, above the past, 29
Years fled-—joys vanished—hopes o’ercast30
Affections blighted—seasons lost31
And earth itself a desart coast !32
Nor easier do I breathe, though now33
The chill of night salutes my brow. 34
’Tis sweet, beneath the cataract35
To sit, and watch the drizzly rack36
That reascends, and then renews37
Its mazy fall in trickling dews ; 38
To see the waters flash and foam39
In darkness, to their central dome, 40
Amid the sable rocks, which frown41
Like genii o’er the waters brown ; 42
To hear them roar, with mighty crash, 43
And onwards rush, and downwards dash, 44
Beneath the hazel trees, that throw45
Their shadows o’er the chasms below46
’Tis sweet to gaze upon the sky, 47
And turn a fond and wistful eye48
Upon the stars of twinkling ray, 49
Upon the lucid milky way, 50
Upon the long, long vistas, through51
The trackless paths of placid blue52
And why? ’Tis Fancy rules the brain, 53
And draws the thoughts from present pain, 54
And leads us to a lonely spot55
Where Passion’s voice awakens not.56
Dim hang the shadowy forests round, 57
Their canopies without a sound, 58
Along whose paths quick stalking Fear, 60
With indrawn breath all trembling steals, 61
And dreams Destruction at his heels. 62
The lofty elm its giant boughs63
Of leafy darkness o’er me throws, 64
And at its base I lay me down, 65
Upon the furze of golden brown, 66
Until returning light shall bring67
My quiet, and the morning spring.68