A
NIGHT-PIECE
;
OR
,
MODERN
PHILOSOPHY
.
ODE
III
.
Dicetur
meritâ
nox
quoque
noeniâ
.
HOR.
'TWAS
when
bright
Cynthia
with
her
silver
car
,
Soft
stealing
from
Endymion's
bed
,
Had
call'd
forth
ev'ry
glitt'ring
star
,
And
up
th'
ascent
of
heav'n
her
brilliant
host
had
led
.
Night
,
with
all
her
negro
train
,
Took
possession
of
the
plain
;
In
an
hearse
she
rode
reclin'd
,
Drawn
by
screech-owls
slow
and
blind
:
Close
to
her
,
with
printless
feet
,
Crept
Stillness
,
in
a
winding
sheet
.
Next
to
her
deaf
Silence
was
seen
,
Treading
on
tip
toes
over
the
green
;
Softly
,
lightly
,
gently
she
trips
,
Still
holding
her
fingers
seal'd
to
her
lips
.
You
could
not
see
a
sight
,
You
could
not
hear
a
sound
,
But
what
confess'd
the
night
,
And
horror
deepen'd
round
.
Beneath
a
myrtle's
melancholy
shade
,
Sophron
the
wise
was
laid
:
And
to
the
answ'ring
wood
these
sounds
convey'd
:
While
others
toil
within
the
town
,
And
to
Fortune
smile
or
frown
,
Fond
of
trifles
,
fond
of
toys
,
And
married
to
that
woman
,
Noise
;
Sacred
Wisdom
be
my
care
,
And
fairest
Virtue
,
Wisdom's
heir
.
His
speculations
thus
the
sage
begun
,
When
,
lo
!
the
neighbouring
bell
In
solemn
sound
struck
one
:
—
He
starts
—
and
recollects
—
he
was
engag'd
to
Nell
.
Then
up
he
sprang
nimble
and
light
,
And
rapp'd
at
fair
Ele'nor's
door
;
He
laid
aside
virtue
that
night
,
And
next
morn
por'd
in
Plato
for
more
.