沉思之母，沉思的智者，她的洞穴矗立在特内里菲岛的最高岩石上;在这狂风暴雨的夜晚，你在最平静的沉思中，听到狂风呼啸，大雨滂沱，冰雹飘飘;或者，如果晴空万里，辛西娅驾着她那银色车轴的车子，穿过湛蓝恬静的苍白，你坐着，目不转睛地凝视着那闪闪发光的拱顶，心醉神醉，远处波涛的模糊低语，用嘶哑而空洞的声音抚慰着你沉思的耳朵;安全，自我祝福，你常在那里听到舰队的喧嚣，那是在低声地登上岩石的顶峰，你住在那里，远离人类，与苍穹交谈!啊，崇高的女王，领我到与我的灵魂相合的庄严的幽暗中去吧;到阴凉处去，到破旧的座位去，到黄昏的牢房和凉亭去，沉思的忧郁爱在那里沉思，她最喜欢在午夜出没。在那紫色的春天的欢声笑语中，所有恣意的微笑和优雅，似乎都在引领着舞蹈的嬉戏，而从他们的手中，洒下了永恒的花朵，不再迷人;坦佩，我不再追求你那和煦的微风了，再见，绿色的山谷!你们这些宽宽的人，再见吧!在黄昏时分，让我常坐在你那荒废的修道院长满青苔的石堆下，苍白的月亮透过某扇西窗，洒下她那长长久久的流光; While sullen sacred silence reigns around, Save the lone screech-owl's note, who builds his bower Amid the mould'ring caverns dark and damp, Or the calm breeze, that rustles in the leaves Of flaunting ivy, that with mantle green Invests some wasted tower. Or let me tread Its neighb'ring walk of pines, where mus'd of old The cloister'd brothers : thro' the gloomy void That far extends beneath their ample arch As on I pace, religious horror wraps My soul in dread repose. But when the world Is clad in Midnight's raven-colour'd robe, 'Mid hollow charnel let me watch the flame Of taper dim, shedding a livid glare O'er the wan heaps; while airy voices talk Along the glimm'ring walls; or ghostly shape At distance seen, invites with beck'ning hand My lonesome steps, thro' the far-winding vaults. Nor undelightful is the solemn noon Of night, when haply wakeful from my couch I start: lo, all is motionless around! Roars not the rushing wind; the sons of men And every beast in mute oblivion lie; All nature's hush'd in silence and in sleep. O then how fearful is it to reflect, That thro' the still globe's awful solitude, No being wakes but me! till stealing sleep My drooping temples bathes in opiate dews. Nor then let dreams, of wanton folly born My senses lead thro' flow'ry paths of joy; But let the sacred Genius of the night Such mystic visions send, as Spenser saw, When thro' bewild'ring Fancy's magic maze, To the fell house of Busyrane, he led Th' unshaken Britomart; or Milton knew, When in abstracted thought he first conceiv'd All heav'n in tumult, and the Seraphim Come tow'ring, arm'd in adamant and gold. Let others love soft Summer's evening smiles, As listening to the distant waterfall, They mark the blushes of the streaky west'; I choose the pale December's foggy glooms. Then, when the sullen shades of evening close, Where through the room a blindly- glimmering gleam They dying embers scatter, far remote From Mirth's mad shouts, that through th' illumined roof Resound with festive echo, let me sit, Blest with the lowly cricket's drowsy dirge. Then let my thought contemplative explore This fleeting state of things, the vain delights, The fruitless toils, that still our search elude, As through the wilderness of life we rove. This sober hour of silence will unmask False Folly's smile , that like the dazzling spells Of wily Comus cheat th' unweeting eye With blear illusion, and persuade to drink That charmed cup, which Reason's mintage fair Unmoulds, and stamps the monster on the man. Eager we taste, but in the luscious draught Forget the poisonous dregs that lurk beneath. Few know that elegance of soul refin'd, Whose soft sensation feels a quicker joy From Melancholy's scenes, than the dull pride Of tasteless splendour and magnificence Can e'er afford. Thus Eloise, whose mind Had languish'd to the pangs of melting love, More genuine transport found, as on some tomb Reclin'd, she watch'd the tapers of the dead; Or thro' the pillar'd aisles, amid pale shrines Of imag'd saints, and intermingled graves, Mus'd a veil'd votaress; than Flavia feels, As thro' the mazes of the festive ball, Proud of her conquering charms, and beauty's blaze, She floats amid the silken sons of dress, And shines the fairest of th' assembled fair.