midnight
Lines , Written during Convalescence from Brain Fever Sing on , sweet bird , thy gentle strain `` Ca n't cool my brow , or cool my brain ; '' But yet , thou hast a magic pow ' r To lull me in a fev ` rish hour ; Thy pleasant notes , so sweet and clear , Come soft and mellow 'd to my ear . And when my head is rack 'd with pain , Burning my brow , throbbing my brain , -- When all 's tumultuous , toss 'd , and wild , And frantic as a wayward child ; Roaring as if old ocean 's waves Were bursting from their coral caves ; Tossing as if old ocean 's foam Were rocking to its highest home ; Moaning as if the sea bird 's wail Were screaming o'er the tattered sail ; And ev'ry ship were tempest toss 'd , -- Its rudder gone , -- its pilot lost ; And no kind ray of light were giv ` n , To cheer them , from the vault of heav ` n , Save the vivid lightning 's flash , -- Pealing the deep ton 'd thunder crash , Glancing upon the tow ` ring wave , Above the seaman 's yawning grave ; -- Glaring into that dark abyss , Where hideous monsters dart and hiss , And ship wreck 'd seamen , far from home . Toss amid the briny foam ; Till the proud wave , with one stern sweep , Buries the secrets of the deep ; Revealing far , on upper land , A lawless bandits ' wand ` ring band , With sword and rapier , stain 'd with blood , Still thirsting for the crimson flood ; They show no mercy on their kind , But kill or plunder all they find . Then dies the flash , as ocean 's moan Sends back a low , sepulchral groan , Leaving all nature dark and still , As midnight sleeping on the hill , While all around unearthly seems , As frightened Hecate 's spectral dreams ; Till bubbling , gushing through each vein , The frenzied current turns again , -- My hurrying pulses faster play , And conjure up the dread array , -- Glaring spectres , side by side , In mould ` ring shrouds around me glide ; Death 's damp wreaths are round their hair , And coffin worms hold revel there . Gibb ` ring , they come from ancient tombs , Stealing from low sepulchral glooms , From vault and charnel house they rise , With bloodless cheek , and hollow eyes , They point the finger , -- shake the head , And hold strange converse round my bed ; Together there , in council meet , With coffin , pall and winding sheet , -- Seem waiting , with their dread array , To bear my lifeless form away . They stand with mattock , and with spade , -- On me their icy hands are laid , While noisome vapors round me spread , Bespeak the precincts of the dead . E'en then , sweet bird , at such an hour , When reason almost resigns her power ; Thy pleasant notes have magic art , To soothe my palpitating heart ; They come as wild , as free , as clear , As though no pain or woe were near .