'Twas at the time the moon's broad shield
Shines 'mid the vaulted skies,
While trembling round, [her]1 regal state,
The starry myriads rise.
Her pale beams silver'd o'er the gate
Where sculptur'd Frenzy glares,
And moping Melancholy scowls
Upon a world of cares.

From the dark cells, where horror reigns
And dire distraction bides,
A hapless maniac burst her chains,
And through the portal glides.
Loose were her robes, and on her breast
Chill dropp'd the midnight dew;
She felt it not: cold blew the [blast]2;
The winds unheeded blew.

Thro' lighted halls of gay resort,
Thro' trim domestic bands,
She pass'd resistless, and at once
Before the banquet stands.
O most unlook'd-for at that board,
And most unwelcome guest;
Cold is for thee the marble heart,
That robb'd thee of thy rest.

And do you weep? I cannot weep!
Frown not, nor look unkind;
That gentle pity sheds her balm
To sooth my troubled mind.
But stop! Methinks yon distant bell
Now warns me to attend
Where the last gleam of parting hope
Marks out a kinder friend.