Ode

Wide o’er the drowsy world, incumbent Night, Sullen and drear, his sable wing has spread! The waning moon, with interrupted light, Gleams cold and misty on my fever’d bed! Cold as she is, to her my bursting heart Shall pour its waste of woe, its unavailing smart.

Thro’ the long hours—ah me! how long the hours! My restless limbs no balmy languors know; Grieved tho’ I am, yet griefs assuaging showers From burning eye-balls still refuse to flow; Love’s jealous fires, kindled by Aza’s frown, Not the vast watery world, with all its waves can drown.

Slow pass the stars along the night’s dun plain! Still in their destined sphere serene they move; Nor does their mild effulgence shine in vain, Like the fierce blazes of neglected love: But this—this pang dissolves the galling chain! Aza, a broken heart defies thy fix’d disdain!