Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, NIGHT QUATRAINS, by CHARLES COTTON


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NIGHT QUATRAINS, by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: The sun is set, and gone to sleep
Last Line: For every day must have its night.
Subject(s): Night; Bedtime


I

THE Sun is set, and gone to sleep
With the fair Princess of the Deep,
Whose bosom is his cool retreat,
When fainting with his proper heat:

II

His steeds their flaming nostrils cool
In spume of the Cerulean Pool;
Whilst the wheels dip their hissing naves
Deep in Columbus's Western Waves.

III

From whence great rolls of smoke arise
To overshade the beauteous skies;
Who bid the world's bright eye adieu
In gelid tears of falling dew.

IV

And now from the Iberian vales
Night's sable steeds her chariot hails,
Where double cypress curtains screen
The gloomy melancholic Queen.

V

These, as they higher mount the sky,
Ravish all colour from the eye,
And leave it but an useless glass,
Which few, or no reflections grace.

VI

The crystal arch o'er Pindus's crown
Is on a sudden dusky grown,
And all's with fun'ral black o'erspread,
As if the day, which sleeps, were dead.

VII

No ray of light the heart to cheer,
But little twinkling stars appear;
Which like faint dying embers lie,
Fit nor to work, nor travel by.

VIII

Perhaps to him they torches are,
Who guide night's sovereign's drowsy car,
And him they may befriend so near,
But us they neither light, nor cheer.

IX

Or else those little sparks of light
Are nails that tyre the wheels of night,
Which to new stations still are brought,
As they roll o'er the gloomy vault.

X

Or nails that arm the horse's hoof,
Which trampling o'er the marble roof,
And striking fire in the air,
We mortals call a shooting star.

XI

That's all the light we now receive,
Unless what belching Vulcans give,
And those yield such a kind of light
As adds more horror to the night.

XII

Nyctimine now freed from day,
From sullen bush flies out to prey,
And does with ferret note proclaim
Th' arrival of th' usurping Dame.

XIII

The Rail now cracks in fields and meads,
Toads now forsake the nettle-beds,
The tim'rous hare goes to relief,
And wary men bolt out the thief.

XIV

The fire's new rak't, and hearth swept clean
By Madge, the dirty kitchen-quean,
The safe is locked, the mouse-trap set,
The leaven laid, and bucking wet.

XV

Now in false floors and roofs above,
The lustful cats make ill-tun'd love,
The ban-dog on the dunghill lies,
And watchful nurse sings lullabies.

XVI

Philomel chants it whilst she bleeds,
The Bittern booms it in the reeds,
And Reynard entering the back yard,
The Capitolian cry is heard.

XVII

The Goblin now the fool alarms,
Hags meet to mumble o'er their charms;
The Night-mare rides the dreaming ass,
And Fairies trip it on the grass.

XVIII

The drunkard now supinely snores,
His load of ale sweats through his pores,
Yet when he wakes the swine shall find
A crapula remains behind.

XIX

The sober now and chaste are blest
With sweet, and with refreshing rest,
And to sound sleeps they've best pretence,
Have greatest share of innocence.

XX

We should so live then that we may
Fearless put off our clots and clay,
And travel through Death's shades to Light;
For every Day must have its Night.





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