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THAT SILENT MOON. 205
Dispersed along the world's wide way,
How powerful she to wake the thought,
Who watch, with us, at night's pale noon,
And gaze upon that silent moon.
How powerful, too, to hearts that mourn,
The magic of that moonlight sky, To bring again the vanished scenes,
The happy eves of days gone by; Again to bring, 'mid bursting tears, The loved, the lost of other years.
And oft she looks, that silent moon,
On lonely eyes that wake to weep,
Or couch, whence pain has banished sleep:
But beam on whomsoe'er she will,
There's pureness in her chastened light,
What power is hers to soothe the heart—
What power the trembing tear to start!
206 THAT SILENT MOON.
The dewy morn let others love,
There's not an hour but has its charm,
But oh! be mine a fairer boon —
That silent moon, that silent moon!
BY O. M ELLEN.
But still the dingle's hollow threat,
Prolonged the swelling Bugle's note;
The owlets started from their dream,
The eagles answered with their scream j
Round and around the sounds were oast,
Till Echo seemed an answering blast.—Lady qf the Lake.
O, Wild, enchanting horn!
'Till a new melody is born!
Wake, wake again; the night
Intense, and eloquently bright!
Night, at its pulseless noon!
Barks at the melancholy moon!
208 THE BUGLE.
Hark! how it sweeps away,
With lone halloo and roundelay.
Swell, swell in glory out!
As boyhood's old remembered shout!
O, have ye heard that peal,
Like some near breath around ye steai
Or have ye, in the roar
Where wings and tempests never soar!
Go, go; no other sound,
On Midnight's fathomless profound!
'T is a lowly grave but it suits her best,
Since it breathes of fragrance and speaks of rest,
And meet for her is its calm repose,
Whose life was so stormy and sad to its close.
'T is a shady dell where they laid her form,
A trickling stream, as it winds below,
It is sweet to think, that when life is o'er,