1215. Magna Charta was signed, on compulsion, by king John, at
Runnymead, near Windsor.
1820. Sir Joseph Banks, president of the royal society, died, aged 77.
_The Summer Midnight._
The breeze of night has sunk to rest,
Upon the river’s tranquil breast,
And every bird has sought her nest,
Where silent is her minstrelsy;
The queen of heaven is sailing high,
A pale bark on the azure sky,
Where not a breath is heard to sigh--
So deep the soft tranquillity.
Forgotten now the heat of day
That on the burning waters lay,
The noon of night her mantle gray,
Spreads, from the sun’s high blazonry;
But glittering in that gentle night
There gleams a line of silvery light,
As tremulous on the shores of white
It hovers sweet and playfully.
At peace the distant shallop rides;
Not as when dashing o’er her sides
The roaring bay’s unruly tides
Were beating round her gloriously;
But every sail is furl’d and still,
Silent the seaman’s whistle shrill,
While dreamy slumbers seem to thrill
With parted hours of ecstacy.
Stars of the many spangled heaven!
Faintly this night your beams are given,
Tho’ proudly where your hosts are driven
Ye rear your dazzling galaxy;
Since far and wide a softer hue
Is spread across the plains of blue,
Where in bright chorus ever true
For ever swells your harmony.
O! for some sadly dying note
Upon this silent hour to float,
Where from the bustling world remote,
The lyre might wake its melody;
One feeble strain is all can swell
From mine almost deserted shell,
In mournful accents yet to tell
That slumbers not its minstrelsy.
_There is an hour_ of deep repose
That yet upon my heart shall close,
When all that nature dreads and knows
Shall burst upon me wond’rously;
O may, I then awake for ever
My harp to rapture’s high endeavour,
And as from earth’s vain scene I sever,
Be lost in Immortality!
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