To-night the winds begin to rise br And roar from yonder dropping day: br The last red leaf is whirl'd away, br The rooks are blown about the skies; br The forest crack'd, the waters curl'd, br The cattle huddled on the lea; br And wildly dash'd on tower and tree br The sunbeam strikes along the world: br And but for fancies, which aver br That all thy motions gently pass br Athwart a plane of molten glass, br I scarce could brook the strain and stir br br That makes the barren branches loud; br And but for fear it is not so, br The wild unrest that lives in woe br Would dote and pore on yonder cloud br br That rises upward always higher, br And onward drags a labouring breast, br And topples round the dreary west, br A looming bastion fringed with fire.