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Now air is hushed, save where the weak-eyed bat,
With short shrill shriek flits by on leathern wing,
Or where the beetle winds
His small but sullen horn,
As oft he rises 'midst the twilight path,
Against the pilgrim borne in heedless hum.

— William Collins Ode to Evening (1747)

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More quotes by William Collins

How sleep the brave who sink to rest
By all their country's wishes blest!

And Hope enchanted smiled, and waved her golden hair.

Peace rules the day, where reason rules the mind.

Love of peace, and lonely musing,
In hollow murmurs died away.

The Passions, an Ode for Music (1747)

By fairy hands their knell is rung,
By forms unseen their dirge is sung.

How Sleep the Brave (1748)

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Attribution

Quote text and notes from Wikiquote: William Collins (page history), available under CC BY-SA 4.0. Source quality and labels are our own summary of what Wikiquote records.