To-night the winds begin to rise
And roar from yonder dropping day:
The last red leaf is whirl'd away
The rooks are blown about the skies;

The forest crack'd, the waters curl'd
The cattle huddled on the lea;
And wildly dash'd on tower and tree
The sunbeam strikes along the world:

And but for fancies, which aver
That all thy motions gently pass
Athwart a plane of molten glass
I scarce could brook the strain and stir

That makes the barren branches loud;
And but for fear it is not so
The wild unrest that lives in woe
Would dote and porе on yonder cloud

That rises upward always higher
And onward drags a labouring brеast
And topples round the dreary west
A looming bastion fringed with fire