Ode on Darkness

'Tis now the dreary hour of night, When darkness shuts the sense of sight: Where sparkles now that florid grace, That sat enthron'd on nature's face? That golden flood of glory where, That stream'd its lustre thro' the air? That private, zephyr-quivering shade, Where Thyrsis woo'd his lovely maid? Alas! the sun, alas! the shade, Where Thyrsis woo'd his lovely maid, Are vanish'd, and the watery dyke, And flowery bank have charms alike. The velvet lawn, the tree-topt hill, The fertile mead, the neighb'ring rill, And all, that lately pleas'd my eye, In undistinguish'd darkness lie. Oh, darkness! each extreme degree Is reconcil'd alone by thee. What now avail Lucinda's eyes, That wont to dazzle and surprize? Or what the captivating charms Of Stella's lilly-colour'd arms? Since none the difference can see 'Twixt beauty and deformity. Involv'd in terror, on his bed The wretch of guilt reclines his head, Reclines, and wishes for repose, That friendly balm of human woes. In vain, for gentle sleep denies With magic wand to close his eyes; And should he nod, he dreams despair, And wakens to redoubled care. Then spectred forms before him sweep, Imaginary foes to sleep, Whilst every whistling breath of wind Adds deeper horror to his mind. He sweats in tremor, sinks his head, To every sense of comfort dead: With pain reflects, attempts to pray, And yearns to see the glimpse of day. Not so, the steady, tranquil man, Who acts by reason's virtuous plan; No wild fantastic thoughts controul The settled firmness of his soul. For, thro' the gloomy veil of night, He sees a constant, sacred light, That beams its unremitting ray, And changes darkness into day.