Parerga/Night and Morning
< Parerga
NIGHT AND MORNING.
'Twas night, and the hour for our parting had come,
As we past from the grove that embosom'd her home.
We gazed on the orb of the beautiful Moon,
And we grieved that our path should have ended so soon.
'Twas one of those nights that resemble the day,
Less clearness, but much more of Love in its ray[1];
When the bright queen of heaven, her mild glances throwing,
Beholds her fair face in the wave's mirror glowing;
And vague, but enchanting, from forest and hill
The shades o'er the valley lie pensive and still.
Oh then, when the Moon floats all cloudless above,
She dreams of Endymion[2], and smiles upon Love.
So yielding and soft is her silvery light,
That a negative cannot be given by night.
I look'd on the heaven, I look'd on the eye
Of the fair-one who also stood star-gazing by;
I knew not which thrill'd me the most of the two,
Or which was the brightest and loveliest blue.
I felt my heart melting away in the charm,
But I summoned it up: as she leant on my arm
Given half in support, given half in caress,
I asked if she loved me;—she whisper'd me, "Yes."
As we past from the grove that embosom'd her home.
We gazed on the orb of the beautiful Moon,
And we grieved that our path should have ended so soon.
'Twas one of those nights that resemble the day,
Less clearness, but much more of Love in its ray[1];
When the bright queen of heaven, her mild glances throwing,
Beholds her fair face in the wave's mirror glowing;
And vague, but enchanting, from forest and hill
The shades o'er the valley lie pensive and still.
Oh then, when the Moon floats all cloudless above,
She dreams of Endymion[2], and smiles upon Love.
So yielding and soft is her silvery light,
That a negative cannot be given by night.
I look'd on the heaven, I look'd on the eye
Of the fair-one who also stood star-gazing by;
I knew not which thrill'd me the most of the two,
Or which was the brightest and loveliest blue.
I felt my heart melting away in the charm,
But I summoned it up: as she leant on my arm
Given half in support, given half in caress,
I asked if she loved me;—she whisper'd me, "Yes."
'Twas morn, the pale gleams and the shadows had fled;
We met, but the moonlight illusion was dead.
In daylight we all see too clearly and far,
The daylight shows persons and things as they are.
The visions of love 'neath its practical light
Are scattered away, like the phantoms of night.
I felt myself alter'd, I thought her so too,
But believed I was bound the fond theme to renew.
In a common-place tone, rather stammering and low,
I asked if she loved me;—she answered me,—"No."
We met, but the moonlight illusion was dead.
In daylight we all see too clearly and far,
The daylight shows persons and things as they are.
The visions of love 'neath its practical light
Are scattered away, like the phantoms of night.
I felt myself alter'd, I thought her so too,
But believed I was bound the fond theme to renew.
In a common-place tone, rather stammering and low,
I asked if she loved me;—she answered me,—"No."
'Twas all clear as the day, no disguise or suspense,
Twas not sentimental; but, oh, it was sense.
Twas not sentimental; but, oh, it was sense.
- ↑ Par un de ces beaux soirs qui resemblent au jour,
Avec moins de clarté, mais avec plus d'amour.
Victor Hugo. - ↑ Luna fere tremulum præbebat lumen eunti
Ut comes in nostras officiosa vias.
Huic ego suspiciens "Faveas Dea candida" dixi
"Et subeant animo Latmia saxa tuo."
Ovid.