A Moonlight Ode

Within a lonely gallery's awful gloom, Where pictur'd ancestors adorn the room, And one dim taper distant gleam'd, Veil'd by a dusky cloud, the Queen of Night Diffus'd a pleasing melancholy light, And faintly thro' the windows beam'd:

Within, deep silence reign'd, no mortal stirr'd, Without, the raven croak'd, ill-omen'd bird, And loudly blustering Boreas blew; When thrice the gallery's length I walk'd along, And meditated much on right and wrong, The past, the present rushing to my view.

Thus on the couch I at my ease reclin'd, Revolving o'er and o'er within my mind All I had suffer'd or enjoy'd; Pleasure remember'd, present sorrow brings, And from past sorrow satisfaction springs! Then my whole life my thoughts employ'd:

I view'd my failings, and my virtues too, And doubtless gave myself all merit due, Yet for impartial judgment strove; From crime I clear'd my conscience, not from blame, And dar'd my own an honest heart to name, Dispos'd to friendship and to love.

With tender, wise, indulgent parents blest, With many friends, and one beyond the rest, The faithful sister of my heart; Beneath the rich, but far above the poor, 'Tis vain, 'tis wrong, perhaps, to wish for more, Save for the bliss I might impart.

Why then with melancholy thus opprest, As if the deepest sorrow wrung my breast? Of heaven I ought not to complain; How many far more wretched do I see, Who think me happy, and who envy me! But who can know another's pain?

My tears proceed not from imagin'd woe, There is a tender cause that makes them flow, A cause I from the world conceal; Yet here, in peaceful solitude retir'd, I sing as by the plaintive muse inspir'd, And all my secret grief reveal.

But, from behind the cloud, see Cynthia shine, Come forth in all her majesty divine, And dart direct on me her rays; Her aspect, ever cheerful and serene, Enlivens this too solitary scene, And seems to chide my plaintive lays.

Justly, chaste goddess, dost thou chide my song, I've sung in melancholy strains too long, Too long have left thy peaceful grove; Vouchsafe, protectress of the virgin train, To take a wandering innocent again, And save her from th' assaults of love.