# Tixall Poetry/A Midnight Meditation Among the Ruins at Tixall

A Midnight Meditation
Among
The Ruins at Tixall.
How sweetly on that mouldering tower, How sweetly on that ivy bower, Whose branches through the ruins creep, The melancholy moon-beams sleep! Bright queen of Heaven! thy solemn light Softly soothes my wakeful sight, To milder feelings tunes my breast, And lulls my throbbing heart to rest.
What deep-felt charms these walls disclose! While all around in dead repose, On earth, in air, unheard, unseen, To contemplation leave the scene. So still the air—the balmy breeze Scarce whispers through these aged trees; So smooth yon limpid lake—it shows Each star that in the blue vault glows: A sacred calm pervades the whole, A soft enchantment rules my soul. What magic spell enchains my feet? Why seem these midnight scenes so sweet? Ye visions of my infant years! Though dimly seen through sorrow's tears, 'Tis your entrancing thought supplies The long-lost images that rises;
Which fix my lingering steps, and still A sadly-pleasing joy instil. 'Twas here, alas! a weary round, Through rugged, rough, and thorny ground, My way-worn, pilgrim feet have trod, Since last they prest this mossy sod! 'Twas here—a playful, prattling child, When life, and nature round me smiled, With loved companions—now no more!— The frolic group one mother bore— From morn to eve, in rival toil, With fragrant flowers we deckt the soil, Or pigmy castles raised around, Till all appeared like fairy ground. And sure, we simply thought the while, The old majestic Gothic pile, Compared with ours was babies' play, The work and labour of a day. The good old nurse prolonged the cheat, And dear mamma, with kisses sweet, And fond, impartial smiles, surveyed The efforts of each tiny spade. Where hope allured, or fancy led. Eager in keen pursuit we fled, And was the promised pleasure crost, Straight in new joys the grief was lost. So flew the laughing hours away; So rose, and set, each blissful day. Though vanished—as they ne'er had been— The actors both, and flowery scene, To sad remembrance ever dear, They claim a sigh, a tender tear.
Hush, hark!—from yon sepulchral stone, Methought I heard a hollow groan!
It chills my blood—so deep it came— What horrors seize my shuddering frame! Hark!—once again—'tis idle fear: The place and hour such fancies rear. It was the owl, within the bower, The lonely tenant of the tower, Molested in his dark retreat; Perhaps, the echoes of my feet.
How vain are all the schemes of man! How frail his wisest, best-laid plan! Not man alone—his works decay, His towers, and temples—pass away. Behold those moss-grown, ivied walls, Through which the glimmering moonlight falls, Where screeching owls, and bats obscene, And crawling vermin creep between— These once, with gorgeous hangings drest, The blazoned shield, and towering crest; Where conquerors, with laurel crowned, And patriots from the canvas frowned, Or beauteous dames alternate smiled, For whom those heroes fought and toiled: See—o'er their tops the wild ash grows, And each rank weed luxuriant blows. The swallow, undisturbed, hath hung Her nest on roofs, which erst have rung With sound of harp, and minstrelsy; Of pageants, pomp, and revelry, When at the high-born lady's call, The feast, and dance, in bannered hall, At winter evening's welcome close, To ancient warlike music rose. No more—the mirth-inspiring song Echoes the lofty hall along;
No more—to sprightly notes of pleasure, Swims the light dance in graceful measure. The festal spot can scarce be found: While shattered arches strewed around, And broken columns piled on high, Confused with crumbling turrets lie. Of sportive crowds the gay resort, Is now a lonely, grass-grown court, Where on each side, the time-struck wall Tottering, threats a final fall. The founders' deeply-graven name, Which fondly hoped a lasting fame, In love-knots carved on many a stone, With noxious plants is overgrown; The curious eye can hardly trace Its proudly once distinguished place. Perchance—where yonder casement gleams, Just chequered by the moon's pale beams, As waving through the lattice, twine The mountain ash, and eglantine— Some love-sick maid, at such an hour, Sleepless within the silent tower, Wrapt in lost scenes of past delight, Or fancied visions of the night, Gazing, has stood, with tearful eye, While love has breathed his softest sigh. Hard by this dismal, dreary room, Where darkness spreads a death-like gloom; And the foul, lurking adder breeds, Midst sculptured fragments, choked with weeds; Where solitude, and silence, reign, And desolation leads her train: Here, on this damp, encumbered floor, Once stood the hospitable Door—
To want, and pining misery dear, And loved by all the country near, When, as successive ages rolled, The steel-clad knight, or baron bold, In arms, and well-fought fields grown gray, Here calmly closed life's parting day. For heroes, here their eyes have closed, And statesmen from their toils reposed; And sages, won by nature's charms, Have wooed her to their longing arms; And poets, here have struck the lyre— And caught the soul-inflaming fire, Which, as it thrilled their nerves along, And woke the hidden powers of song, To distant times again addrest, Shall raise the mind, and warm the breast.
Now sinks the fading orb of night, The stars withdraw their twinkling l igh And seem in fancy's ear to say, We too are fated to decay.
O thou! Almighty Power Supreme! Whose bounty gives this nightly beam, Who pourest on the wondering soul, This boundless blaze from pole to pole— Though hid from my imploring eye, Thy works declare thee ever nigh. O teach me clearly to conceive, O teach me firmly to believe, That, from this wreck of mortal things, To which our sense so fondly clings, That, from this dark, bewildered state, Entangled in the maze of fate,
A fair, harmonious scene shall rise— When, opened to our anxious eyes, Cleared from all mist of doubt, and fear. Thy perfect justice shall appear. Guide me through life's perplexing way, Cheer me with Hope's auspicious ray. May simple joys my cares beguile, May love and friendship on me smile; Till my rapt soul, from earth set free, Shall seek eternal rest in Thee.