176 THE SONG OF NIGHT. I bring them from the past: From true hearts broken, gentle spirits torn, From crushed affections, which, though long o'erborne, Make their tone heard at last. I bring them from the tomb: O'er the sad couch of late repentant love, They pass-though low as murmurs of a doveLike trumpets through the gloom. I come with all my train: Who calls me lonely ?-Hosts around me tread, Looks from departed eyes, These are my lightnings !-filled with anguish vain Or tenderness too piercing to sustain, They smite with agonies. I, that with soft control, Shut the dim violet, hush the woodland song, I am the Avenging One !—the Armed, the Strong, The Searcher of the soul! THE SONG OF NIGHT. I, that shower dewy light 177 Through slumbering leaves, bring storms!-the tempest-birth Of Memory, Thought, Remorse :-be holy, Earth!— I am the solemn Night! N MRS. HEMANS. WEEDS. OW many plants, we call them weeds, H Against our wishes grow, And scatter wide their various seeds Man grumbles when he sees them rise, Kind Providence this way supplies His lesser family. Scatter'd and small, they 'scape our eye, But are not wasted there; Safe they in clefts and furrows lie, The little birds find where. THE STARS. ENSIVE as I watched the night, While their gay, but warmless rays, Waked the thoughts of other days; They were bright but they were cold; Duly as the morning cleared, So, before celestial light, Sink the joys of nature's night; 'Twas but darkness made them fair. |