1848.] 



NighL 



19T 



NIGHT. 



By the late Rev. Thomas Halls, a. b. 



Late per agros, plena silentio, 

 Nox alta regnat ; roribus humidi 

 Campi recumbimt, et viretum 

 Omne latet tenebris amictum. 

 Cgelum nigrescens nube, reconditur, 

 Nee sidus unum per vacuum micat, 

 Lassum \iatorem quod igni 

 Lgetificet tremuloque vultu. 

 Singultit segro mitis anhelitu 

 Nereus, et undse pectore fluctuant, 

 Suoque pacatse quiescunt 

 Murmure dulcisono per oras. 

 Sopore blando compositus jacet 

 Fesso colonus cum bove, totaque 

 Natura, finito labore 



Nocte tacet placida sepulta ; 

 Ni qua latratu rus yigili canis 

 Obliviosum suscitet, aut moras 

 Unda lapillorum loquaci 



Transiliat tremebundus amnis ; 

 Vel inter arbusta et siliise comas 

 Singultientes ludat, anhelitu 

 Languente suspirans amorem 

 Dulce tibi, Philomela, ventus. 



Translation of the above by G. W. Mahon. 



'Tis night! — and, widely brooding o'er the plains, 

 Darkness, deep-felt, in solemn silence reigns ! 

 The dewy fields and shadowy groves retire, 

 Enwrapt in gloom : — above, no starry fire 

 Glimmers, from forth the mirky sky, to cheer 

 With its faint smile the way-worn traveller. 

 "With soothing sighs, the waving, heaving deep, 

 Lull'd by its own sweet murmursj sinks to sleep. 

 Their labor o'er, the clown and herd are blent 

 In one deep dream, oblivion's blandishment ! 

 Buried in night, all nature, hush'd, is still : 

 Save where the watch-dog's bark, wdth noisy thrill, 

 Startles the dreamer; or, with babbling waves, 

 The village brooklet tremulously laves 

 The opposing pebbles, and their barriers leaps ; — 

 Or, where the sighing Zephyr, sportive, creeps. 

 Whispering, with panting heart, from tree to tree, 

 Sweet Philomel, his tale of love to thee. 



