The night is past,
And the mists are fast
Receding before the morning blast;
But still the light
Of the Moon is bright,
As reluctant she yields to the Sun his right;
And the morning star
Appears, afar,
To announce the approach of Aurora’s car.
The silver sea
Yet seems to be
As calm as the rest of infancy;
And the mountain steep
Is still in the deep
Profound repose of a giant’s sleep;
And the gurgling rill,
That is never still,
Seems to double its noise to arouse the hill.
The Moon in the west
Now sinks to rest,
And the night-bird withdraws to its ivied nest
In yon antique tower,
Which shows how the power
And pride of man pass away in an hour;
And the carol—hark!
Of the early lark,
Proclaims the Sun to the dell still dark.
A yellow ray,
As if from the spray
Of the ocean, springs with the stars to play;
But they shrink away,
As afraid to stay,
And leave the rude beam to disport as it may;
And, one by one,
They all have gone,
And the sky is bright where they lately shone.
The surges roar
On the sounding shore,
As if to awaken the mountain hoar;
But the morning light
Has just touched the height
Of his topmost crag, and awaked his sight,
And twitched away,
In mirthful play,
His dew-soaked nightcap of misty grey.
See yon green wood
That o’erhangs the flood
Of that beautiful river; it seems as it would
Fain stoop to greet
The water sweet,
Which coquettishly glides away, as fleet
As a mountain fay,
In fairy play,
And to the great ocean runs away.
Now the zenith is white
With a doubtful light,
That is dulled with the dregs of the recent night;
But ’tis fast giving way
To the saffron ray,
That can only be seen at dawn of day;
And this is pushed on
By the golden one
Which precedes the car of the glorious Sun.
Now, the fearful pride
Of the mountain’s side,
Rocks and chasms and cliffs one by one are descried;
And the brightening light
Descends the height,
With majestic step, to the plain now bright;
And the golden vest
Which adorns the east,
Sends its searching rays to the dark, sullen west.
The carpet of gold
O’er his path’s now unrolled,
And all Nature’s expectant its king to behold—
And see! the first gem,
The most brilliant of them
That flash in the front of his diadem;
And—majestic—slow,
He uprises now,
O’er rejoicing worlds, his radiant brow!