FRAGMENT XXV.
DAWN.
“Tempo era dal principio del mattine.”
I
There is a soft and fragrant hour,
Sweet, fresh, reviving is its pow'r;
'Tis when a ray
Steals from the veil of parting night,
And by its mild prelusive light
Foretels the day.
II
'Tis when some ling'ring stars scarce shed
O'er the mist-clad mountain's head
Their fairy beam;
Then one by one retiring, shroud,
Dim glitt'ring through a fleecy cloud,
Their last faint gleam.
III
'Tis when (just wak'd from transient death
By some fresh zephyr's balmy breath)
Th' unfolding rose
Sheds on the air its rich perfume,
While every bud with deeper bloom
And beauty glows.
IV
'Tis when fond Nature (genial power!)
Weeps o'er each drooping night-clos'd flower,
While softly fly
Those doubtful mists, that leave to view
Each glowing scene of various hue
That charms the eye.
V
'Tis when the sea-girt turret's brow
Receives the east's first kindling glow,
And the dark wave,
Swelling to meet the orient gleam,
Reflects the warmly strength'ning beam
It seems to lave.
VI
'Tis when the restless child of sorrow,
Watching the wish'd-for rising morrow,
His couch foregoes,
And seeks midst scenes so sweet, so mild,
To sooth those pangs so keen, so wild,
Of hopeless woes.
VII
Nor day, nor night, this hour can claim,
Nor moon-light ray, nor noon-tide beam,
Does it betray;
But fresh, reviving, dewy, sweet,
It hastes the glowing hours to meet
Of rising day.
