SILENT and cool, now freshening breezes blow
Where groves of chestnut crown yon shadowy steep,
And all around the tears of evening weep
For closing day, whose vast orb, westering slow,
Flings o'er the embattled clouds a mellower glow;
While pens of folded herds, and murmuring deep,
And falling rills, such gentle cadence keep,
As e'en might soothe the weary heart of woe.
Yet what to me is eve, what evening airs,
Or falling rills, or ocean's murmuring sound,
While sad and comfortless I seek in vain
Her who in absence turns my joy to cares,
And, as I cast my listless glances round,
Makes varied scenery but varied pain?

Camoens.

PROGRESS OF EVENING.

ROM yonder wood mark blue-eyed Eve proceed : First through the deep, and warm, and secret glens,

Through the pale-glimmering, privet-scented

lane,

And through those alders by the river-side:
Now the soft dust impedes her, which the sheep
Have hollow'd out beneath their hawthorn

shade.

But ah! look yonder! see a misty tide

Rise up the hill, lay low the frowning grove,

Enwrap the gay, white mansion, sap its sides,
Until they sink and melt away like chalk.
Now it comes down against our village tower,
Covers its base, floats o'er its arches, tears
The clinging ivy from the battlements-
Mingles in broad embrace the obdurate stone-
All one vast ocean! and goes swelling on,
Slow and silent, dim and deepening waves.

Landor.

NIGHT SONG.

THE moon is up in splendour,

And golden stars attend her;

The heavens are calm and bright;

Trees cast a deepening shadow,

And slowly off the meadow

A mist is rising silver-white.