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Hopkin's Pyrrhus. This dead of night, this silent hour of darkness, Nature for rest ordain'd, and soft repose.
Rowe's Fair Penitent. The drowsy night grows on the world, and now The busy craftsmen, and o’erlabour'd hind Forget the travail of the day in sleep : Care only wakes, and moping pensiveness ; ! With meagre discontented looks they sit, And watch the wasting of the midnight taper.
Rowe's Jane Shore, a. 2. s. l.
The setting sun descends Swift to the western waves; and guilty night, Hasty to spread her horror o'er the world, Rides on the dusky air.
Rowe's Ulysses. O, treach'rous night! Thou lend'st thy ready veil to ev'ry treason, And teeming mischiefs thrive beneath thy shade.
Hill's Zara. The night look'd black, and boding darkness fell Precipitate and heavy o'er the world ; At once extinguishing the sun. Mallett's Mustapha. How those fall'n leaves do rustle on the path, With whisp’ring noise, as tho' the earth around me Did utter secret things! The distant river too, bears to mine ear A dismal wailing. O mysterious night! Thou art not silent; many tongues hast thou.
Joanna Baillie's De Monfort, a. 5, s. l.
The stars are forth, the moon above the tops
Byron's Manfred, a. 3, s. 4.
All is gentle : nought Stirs rudely; but congenial with the night, Whatever walks is gliding like a spirit.
Byron's Doge of Venice, a. 4, s. 1.
Now glow'd the firmament
Milton's Paradise Lost, b. 4.
Tunes sweetest his love-labour'd song ; 'now reigns
Ibid. b. 9.
Now began Night with her sullen wings to double-shade The desert; fowls in their clay nests were couch'd ; And now wild beasts came forth the woods to roam.
Milton's Paradise Regained, b. 1. Night, sable goddess ! from her ebon throne, In rayless majesty, now stretches forth Her leaden sceptre o'er a slumb'ring world. Silence, how dead! and darkness, how profound ! Nor eye, nor list’ning ear, an object finds ; Creation sleeps. 'Tis as the gen'ral pulse Of life stood still, and nature made a pause; An awful pause! prophetic of her end.
Young's Night Thoughts, n. 1. How is night's sable mantle labour'd o'er, How richly wrought with attributes divine ! What wisdom shines! what love! This midnight
pomp, This gorgeous arch, with golden worlds inlay'd ! Built with divine ambition.
Ibid. n. 4,
This sacred shade, and solitude, what is it?
Vice sinks in her allurements, is ungilt,
Young's Night Thoughts, n. 5.
Ibid. By day, the soul, o'erborne by life's career, Stunn'd by the din, and giddy with the glare, Reels far from reason, jostled by the throng. Ibid. How, like a widow in her weeds, the night, Amid her glimmering tapers, silent sits! How sorrowful, how desolate, she weeps Perpetual dews, and saddens nature's scene !
Ibid. n. 9.
The trembling stars See crimes gigantic, stalking through the gloom With front erect, that hide their head by day, And making night still darker by their deeds. Slumbering in covert, till the shades descend, Rapine and murder, link'd, now prowl for prey. Ibid. Now black, and deep, the night begins to fall, A shade immense. Sunk in the quenching gloom, Magnificent and vast, are heaven and earth.
Order confounded lies ; all beauty void;
In sable pomp, with all her starry train,
‘Breaks the serene of Heaven :
Rolls through the dark blue depths.
The desert circle spreads,
How beautiful is night! Southey's Thalaba, b.1.
Now was the noon of night; and all was still,'