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Midnight Scenes
Or, Pictures of Human Life.
Picture No. I.
The midnight moon shone drear and cold,
Upon a stately tow'r;
Whose ramparts high and turrets bold
Bespoke a lordly pow'r.
The dancing waters flash'd and gleam'd
Beneath her silver ray;
And gently fell her placid beam,
On tower and turret gray.
And softly came the silent dew,
And fell with gentle pow'r,
Sparkling like gems, or diamonds fair,
On trembling leaf and flow'r.
Fair night hung out her golden lamps,
In her blue chambers high;
And earth, all gemmed, in their pure light,
Lay lovely to the eye.
But look within those costly halls,
Where waxen tapers gleam,
And crimson curtains' silken folds
Exclude the moon's bright beams.
A queenly matron mournful sits,
In all her jewelled pride;
The costly diamond on her breast,
Its anguish cannot hide.
The angel of the raven wing
His sable plume waves there,
And writhing on his silken couch,
Lies stretch'd the only heir.
She feels how vain a thing is wealth,
To ease that lab'ring breath,--
Or bribe, in his resistless course,
The tyrant monster, death.
The hours of night passed slow away,
When brightly rose the sun;
The boy in quiet beauty lay--
The fearful work was done.
The angel had performed his part,
And back to heav'n had flown;
The mother with a bursting heart,
Sat weeping now, alone.
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