A Night-Piece

——The sky is overcastWith a continuous cloud of texture close,Heavy and wan, all whitened by the Moon,Which through that veil is indistinctly seen,A dull, contracted circle, yielding lightSo feebly spread that not a shadow falls,Chequering the ground, from rock, plant, tree, or tower.At length a pleasant instantaneous gleamStartles the pensive traveller as he treadsHis lonesome path, with unobserving eyeBent earthwards; he looks up—the clouds are splitAsunder,—and above his head he seesThe clear moon, and the glory of the heavens.There, in a black blue vault she sails along,Followed by multitudes of stars, that, smallAnd sharp, and bright, along the dark abyssDrive as she drives;—how fast they wheel away,Yet vanish not!—the wind is in the tree,But they are silent;—still they roll alongImmeasureably distant;—and the vault,Built round by those white clouds, enormous clouds,Still deepens its unfathomable depth.At length the Vision closes; and the mind,Not undisturbed by the delight it feels,Which slowly settles into peaceful calm,Is left to muse upon the solemn scene.