Midnight
She sank upon her knees , and buried her face in the coverlid of the bed , but no prayer rose to her lips -- an utter prostration of soul was there , but the shrine of her God was dark and voiceless ; the waves of human passion had flowed over it , and marred the purity of the accustomed offering . Hour after hour still found her on her knees , yet she could not form a single petition to the Divine Father . As Southey has beautifully expressed the same feelings in the finest of all his poems : `` An agony of tears was all her soul could offer . '' Midnight came ; the moon had climbed high in the heavens . The family had retired for the night , and deep silence reigned through the house , when Juliet rose from her knees , and approaching the open casement , looked long and sadly into the serene , tranquil depths of the cloudless night . Who ever gazed upon the face of the divine mother in vain ? The spirit of peace brooded over the slumbering world -- that holy calm which no passion of man can disturb -- which falls with the same profound stillness round the turmoil of the battle-field , and the bed of death -- which enfolds in its silent embrace the eternity of the past -- the wide ocean of the present .