Marcian Colonna :: :: University of Virginia Library

Now, to thy silent presence, Night!
Is, this my young song offered: Oh! to thee,
Down-looking with thy thousand eyes of light—
To thee, and thy starry nobility,
That float, with a delicious murmuring,
(Tho' unheard here) about thy forehead blue;
And as they ride along, in order due,
Circling the round globe in their wandering,
To thee, their ancient queen, and mother, sing.

Mother of beauty! Veiled queen!
Feared, and sought, and never seen
Without a heart-imposing feeling,
Whither art thou gently stealing?

179

In thy smiling presence, I
Kneel in star-struck idolatry,
And turn me to thine eye (the moon)
Fretting that it must change so soon.
Toying with this idle rhyme,
I scorn that bearded villain Time,
Thine old remorseless enemy,
And build my linked verse to thee.

Not dull and cold and dark art thou:
Who that beholds thy clearer brow,
Endiadem'd with gentlest streaks
Of fleecy-silver'd cloud, adorning
Thee fair as when the young Sun wakes,
And from his cloudy bondage breaks,
And lights upon the breast of morning,
But must feel thy powers—
Mightier than the storm that lowers,
Fairer than the virgin Hours,
That smile when Titan's daughter scatters
Her rose-leaves on the valleys low,
And bids her servant breezes blow.

180

Not Apollo when he dies
In the wild October skies,
Red and stormy; nor when he,
In his meridian beauty rides
Over the bosom of the waters,
And turns the blue and burning tides
To silver, is a peer for thee,
In thy full regality.