| |
| HERE rest the weary oar!—soft airs | |
| Breathe out in the o’erarching sky; | |
| And Night-sweet Night—serenely wears | |
| A smile of peace: her noon is nigh. | |
| |
| Where the tall fir in quiet stands, | 5 |
| And waves, embracing the chaste shores, | |
| Move over sea-shells and bright sands, | |
| Is heard the sound of dipping oars. | |
| |
| Swift o’er the wave the light bark springs, | |
| Love’s midnight hour draws lingering near; | 10 |
| And list!—his tuneful viol strings | |
| The young Venetian Gondolier. | |
| |
| Lo! on the silver-mirrored deep, | |
| On earth, and her embosomed lakes, | |
| And where the silent rivers sweep, | 15 |
| From the thin cloud fair moonlight breaks | |
| |
| Soft music breathes around, and dies | |
| On the calm bosom of the sea; | |
| Whilst in her cell the novice sighs | |
| Her vespers to her rosary. | 20 |
| |
| At their dim altars bow fair forms, | |
| In tender charity for those, | |
| That, helpless left to life’s rude storms, | |
| Have never found this calm repose. | |
| |
| The bell swings to its midnight chime, | 25 |
| Relieved against the deep blue sky. | |
| Haste!—dip the oar again—’t is time | |
| To seek Genevra’s balcony. | |
| |
