And marking on her surface words of death;
It is a night of calm, of loveliness,
Streaming along the turrets of the sky,
Like silver banners hung o'er castles gray,
And spreading over isles and waterfalls,

The moonlight radiance through benighted clouds,
Like leaves of sunset torn from daylight's book,
Laid down at intervals on fields of shade.

I saw the day-star set behind the hills;

The shadows fell o'er plain, and stream, and vale,
As if the sunbeams bright had lost their life,
And now had lengthened out their darkened forms
To die on earth; slowly they sank to rest,
Their requiem sung in vesper-tones of birds,
And leaves and brooks that murmured low their grief
In muffled winds, and groaning cataracts;
The tearful flowers their censers waved in air,
The streams moved on funereal to the sea,
Their burial-place, bearing with solemn looks
The death-shades of the day; and as they marched,
Their footsteps lightly might be heard to sweep
Along th' enamelled banks, themselves all clad
With Night's dim robe of grief. The hills stood by,
Like dark-veiled mourners round the couch of death,
With sorrow mute, and witnessed last of all
The spectacle of Day's departing light,

Sending their tears forth from their fountain-eyes,

While the green trees, their offspring on their breasts,

Wept dew-drops down upon the sad dark bier,
Borne by the rivers on.
All Earth was still,
Her hour for tears had now returned again,
For darkness settled on her heart its weight;
The moaning Waterfall threw down his form
In grief's abandonment, and writhed in wo;
Yet not forgetful of the widowed sky,
Into her ear he poured his sympathies
With manly voice, to soothe her aching breast;
And o'er her brow to close her sleepless lids,
Whose starry lashes shone 'mid dewy tears,
Drew the soft curtains of his gauze-like mists.
Slowly the moments made their pilgrimage,
For the dim clouds hung o'er the path of Time,
To frown away the stars that measure night,
And check his chariot wheels in circling course.
The last deep sigh of natural life seemed heaved,
At evening, and methought the pulseless earth
Had died indeed, her children parentless,
And not a kindred orb to weep her loss.

But lo! a spirit's wing appeared to fan

The fainting world, and lifelike airs were breathed, The clouds were cleft, and through the opening rifts,

Beyond the hills, a mellow ray rose up,

The full-orbed moon on toward the zenith wheeled, Filling the air with harmonies of light.

See, how like some pure maid, with glowing brow And panting breast, her locks and garments loose, She seems to rest her weary feet, that strove,

All day before the swift-pursuing Sun,
Amid the starry forests, to escape

The hot embraces of his loving arms;
And now in triumph smiling she looks down
To see her image mirrored on the stream,
Above which, floating silently, she binds
Her locks disheveled, and adjusts her robes.
The forest-trees, like monks in cloisters dim,
Where shines a solitary lamp around,

Seem on their brows to wear the shading cowl,
And with their leaves to tell their beaded prayers.
As when from tower and hill the silver trump,
That told the new-moon's advent-hour, was heard,
Sounded by priestly lips, whose eyes kept watch
On Canaan's heights, to bid her people haste
And hold their lunar festival anew, 23

So from thy watchtower, thou dost trumpet forth,
Still faithful in thy ministering office found,
O strong-voiced Cataract! with wakening tones
Thy welcome to the Measurer of months,
Thy summons to the near and distant tides,
To ebb and flow beneath her influence soft,
And congregate within thy templed courts,
To do her homage, bowing at her shrine.

Lo! what enchantment now enthrals the earth! Whose scenes all changed from sadness to delight, Here revel in resuscitated life!

Like the wide area of a tournament,

Where steel-clad knights and beauteous maidens throng,
Where king and courtier, prince and vassal meet,
Where queens and rustic lasses glance around,
All decked with colors stolen from the sun,
So now each field, each hill, each rocky crag,
Each tree, each island, and each waterfall,
Sparkling beneath the moon's maternal smile,
Gleams with the lustre of her borrowed beams.
O'er all is cast alternate light and shade,

Like histories of life writ on the heart.
The images of trees, wrought on the tides
By intercepted rays, seem sailing down;

The frowns of haughty cliffs are now transferred
To waters meeting in their tilted fight;
And in their stead the smiles of love appear,

As though like worshiped mistresses they looked,
With eager interest on the joust below,

Prepared to cast their crowns on conquering brows.
On visored mists, where lunar rainbows curve,
See now is hung a coronet of light,

Across the temples of the Cataract

That towers in triumph o'er his rival hosts,
And loudly from the tented field ascend
Exulting shouts, to claim the victor's meed;
While minstrel-streamlets chant in liquid strains,
Their welcome praises to his panting soul,
And tell the sweets of summer's maiden-charms.
O Night most beautiful! O lovely Night!
With tesselated brow and eyes of jet,

Where light and darkness like twin-children meet,
How rapt my spirit lies beneath thy spell,
And yields its musings to thy sweet control!
O genial Night! thy halls are populous!
Thy realm is not the home of solitude,
For images of life move through thine aisles,
And voices musical thiné arches fill!

Hark! what strange music hither floats along,
As if some spirit from the world of sound

Were passing now o'er earth with flitting wings,
That drop sweet notes, like dews from pinioned forms?
And ha! what shape, as o'er the Cataract hung,
Stands on the point of yon projecting ledge?
What form is that? A phantom of the night?
An errant spirit loosed from airy climes?
'Tis he, lone man! the Hermit of the Fall!
That kinless wanderer, seen but yet unknown !24

He came a stranger to these western homes,
A wonder to the hosts that throng this shrine,
Far from the isle that sleeps beyond the wave,
The brightest gem in Ocean's coronet,
That in the firmament of nations shines
A star ascendant, whose high glories reach
These shores, and distant climes that seem
The birthplace and the cradle of the sun.
He came, he saw thy lovely form, thy curling brow,
And radiant smile, he heard thy siren voice,