How tranquil is the night! The torrent's roar
Dies off far distant; through the lattice streams
The pure, white, silvery moonshine, mantling o'er
The couch and curtains with its fairy gleams.
Sweet is the prospect; sweeter are the dreams
From which my loathful eyelid now unclosed:--
Methought beside a forest we reposed,
Marking the summer sun's far western beams,
A dear-loved friend and I. The nightingale
To silence and to us her pensive tale
Sang forth; the very tone of vanish'd years
Came o'er me, feelings warm, and visions bright;
Alas! how quick such vision disappears,
To leave the spectral moon and silent night!
_Delta of Blackwood's Magazine._
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