The fountain on the moonlight plays,
And old Castello's turrets rise
Darkly against the silvery skies,
And voices laugh along the ways.

The moonlight sleeps upon the square;
And from the castellated town
The sharp dark blocks of shadow thrown
Lie cut out in the whiteness there.

Among the trees the luccioli
Show fitfully their wandering light,
And far away across the night
The owl prolongs his dreary cry.

How still! how exquisitely still!
No sound disturbs the silentness
Save the untiring cricket's stress,
And the continuous fountain's spill.

The weeds along the old grey wall
Hang moveless, casting spots of shade;
And all is beautified, and made
More perfect where the moonbeams fall.

What magic light that thus can hide
The ravages of time, and grace
The commonest and meanest place,
And veil the earth as 'twere a bride!

On such a night Diana kissed
Endymion's brow the while he slept,
As noiselessly to him she crept
Enshrouded in a silver mist.

Oh! pass not, perfect night, from us,
But stay with us and crown our love!
Sing, from the shadowy ilex grove —
Sing, nightingale, for ever thus!

'T IS twilight! the murmurous voices
Of maidens that stroll with their lovers
Beneath the dark ilex's shadows
Come faint to my ear.

No cloud in the soft azure heaven
Is floating — the moon in its fulness
Looks down with a mild face of pity,
And night holds its breath.

Innumerous under the grasses
The grilli are ceaselessly chirping,
Above them the luccioli lighten,
And all is at peace!

At peace! ay, the peace of the desert!
The silence, the deep desolation,
That comes when the blast has swept o'er us
And buried our hopes.

At peace! when the music that thrilled us,
The hand that its harmonies wakened,
The voice that was soul to the singing,
Alike are at rest!

At peace! ay, the peace of the ocean,
When past is the storm where we foundered,
And morning looks o'er the blank waters,
And hears but their moan!