In other Climates, from the rays of Noon
Embower'd, Content lies sleeping; and the palm
Drinking the fiery Stream, plays o'er the Brow
Of shadied Weariness; and distant now
Draws meek-ey'd Eve, with even hand and slow,
The fringed Curtain of the setting Sun,
Ting'd with the golden Splendour he bequeaths,
The brief, but beauteous Legacy of Light.
'Tis Midnight round us, canopied by Dim
180