 | The Poetical Works of Laman Blanchard |  |
139
XVI
MIDNIGHT.
The pulse of Time is stopt: a silentness
Hath seized the waters, and the winds, and all
That motion claims or musical natural;
The altar of all life stands victimless.
Of beast or bird, in joyance or distress,
All token sleeps; nor leaf is heard to fall
As Midnight holds her breath! The kingly hall
Is barred—the slave inherits an excess
Of infelt loyalty—the exile views
His home in dreams; nay, even the student breaks
From his worn volume, and forgets to muse
On laws and worlds—the miser only wakes,
Warming his fingers at a golden heap,
He smiles in Midnight's face, and will not trust to sleep.
| The Poetical Works of Laman Blanchard | |