Whilst clear stars thro' their riven edges peep.
Soft thro' each ragged breach, and streamy rent,
And open gaps in dusky circle pent,
The upper heaven looks serenely bright
In dappled gold, and snowy fleeces dight:
And on the middle current lightly glides
The lesser cloud, with silver wreathy sides.
In sudden gusts awakes the nightly breeze
Across the wood, and rustles thro' the trees;
Or whistles on the plain with eddying sweep;
Or issues from the glen in wailings deep,
Which die away upon the open vale:
Whilst in the pauses of the ruffling gale
The buzzing night-fly rises from the ground,
And wings his flight in many a mazy round;
And lonely owls begin their nightly strain,
So hateful to the ear of 'nighted swain.
Thou do'st the weary trav'ller mislead;
Thy voice is roughsome, and uncooth thy weed,
O gloomy Night! for black thy shadows be,
And fools have rais'd a bad report on thee.
Yet art thou free and friendly to the gay,
And light hearts prize thee equal to the day.

Now tiresome plodding folks are gone to rest;
And soothing slumber locks the careful breast.
And tell-tale friends, and wise advisers snore;
And softly slip-shod youths unbar the door.
Now footsteps echo far, and watch-dogs bark;
Worms glow, and cats' eyes glitter in the dark.