Clouds, lingering yet, 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 to view the abyss in which she feeds
Her own calm fires? -- But listen! a voice is near;
Great Pan himself low-whispering through the reeds,
'Be thankful, thou; for, if unholy deeds
Ravage the world, tranquility is here!'