Eve’s lingering clouds extend in solid bars
Through the grey west; and lo! these waters, steeled
By breezeless air to smoothest polish, yield
A vivid repetition of the stars;
Jove—Venus—and the ruddy crest of Mars,
Amid his fellows, beauteously revealed
At happy distance from earth’s groaning field,
Where ruthless mortals wage incessant wars.
Is it a mirror?—or the nether sphere
Opening its vast abyss, while fancy feeds
On the rich show!—But list! a voice is near;
Great Pan himself low-whispering through the reeds,
“Be thankful thou; for, if unholy deeds
Ravage the world, tranquillity is here!”