noon
Night broke over him as he traversed the Pontine Marshes . There , the malaria broods over its rankest venom : solitude hath lost the soul that belonged to it : all life , save the deadly fertility of corruption , seems to have rotted away : the spirit falls stricken into gloom ; a nightmare weighs upon the breast of Nature ; and over the wrecks of Time , Silence sits motionless in the arms of Death . He arrived at Terracina , and retired to rest . His sleep was filled with fearful dreams ; he woke , late at noon , languid and dejected . As his servant , who had lived with him some years , attended him in rising , Godolphin observed on his countenance that expression common to persons of his class when they have something which they wish to communicate , and are watching their opportunity . `` Well , Malden ! '' said he , `` you look important this morning : what has happened ? ''