Loud midnight-soothing melancholy bird,1
That send’st such music to my sleepless soul,2
Binding her powers in thy fast control,3
Few listen to thy song ; yet I have heard,4
When man and Nature slept, nor aspen stirr’d,5
Thy mournful voice, sweet vigil of the sleeping6
And liken’d thee to some angelic mind,7
That sits and grieves for erring mortals weeping.8
The genius, not of groves, but of mankind,9
Watch at this solemn hour o’er millions keeping.10
In Eden’s bowers, as mighty poets tell,11
Didst thou repeat, as now, that plaintive call12
Those sorrowing notes might seem, sad Philomel,13
Prophetic to have mourn’d of man the fall.14