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(From Battle of Niagara, Canto II)
THE MOON goes lightly up her thronging way, | |
| And shadowy things are brightening into day; | |
| And cliff and shrub and bank and tree and stone | |
| Now move upon the eye, and now are gone. | |
| A dazzling tapestry is hung around, | 5 |
| A gorgeous carpeting bestrews the ground; | |
| The willows glitter in the passing beam, | |
| And shake their tangling lustres o’er the stream; | |
| And all the full rich foliage of the shore | |
| Seems with a quick enchantment frosted o’er, | 10 |
| And dances at the faintest breath of night, | |
| And trembles like a plume of spangles in the light! | |
| This dark cool wave is bluer than the deep, | |
| Where sailors, children of the tempest, sleep; | |
| And dropped with lights as pure, as still, as those | 15 |
| The wide-drawn hangings of the skies disclose, | |
| Far lovelier than the dim and broken ray, | |
| That Ocean’s flashing surges send astray. | |
| This is the mirror of dim Solitude, | |
| On which unholy things may ne’er intrude; | 20 |
| That frowns and ruffles when the clouds appear, | |
| Refusing to reflect their shapes of fear. | |
| Ontario’s deeps are spread to multiply | |
| But sunshine, stars, the moon, and clear-blue sky. | |
| No pirate barque was ever seen to ride, | 25 |
| With blood-red streamer, chasing o’er that tide; | |
| Till late, no bugle o’er those waters sang | |
| With aught but huntsman’s orisons, that rang | |
| Their clear, exulting, bold, triumphant strain, | |
| Till all the mountain echoes laughed again; | 30 |
| Till caverns, depths, and hills would all reply, | |
| And heaven’s blue dome ring out the sprightly melody. | |
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