midnight
My mind was attuned to melancholy . I dwelt , with an obstinacy for which I could not account , on the idea of his death . I painted to myself his struggles with the billows , and his last appearance . I imagined myself a midnight wanderer on the shore , and to have stumbled on his corpse , which the tide had cast up . These dreary images affected me even to tears . I endeavoured not to restrain them . They imparted a relief which I had not anticipated .