midnight
He was eighteen . `` How like a younker or a prodigal , The scarfed bark puts from her native bay ! '' / Merchant of Venice / . WE are apt to connect the voice of Conscience with the stillness of midnight . But I think we wrong that innocent hour . It is that terrible `` NEXT MORNING , '' when reason is wide awake , upon which remorse fastens its fangs . Has a man gambled away his all , or shot his friend in a duel -- has he committed a crime or incurred a laugh -- it is the / next morning / , when the irretrievable Past rises before him like a spectre ; then doth the churchyard of memory yield up its grisly dead -- then is the witching hour when the foul fiend within us can least tempt perhaps , but most torment .