Chapter IX: Section I

Ten circles have passed; ten circles of the earth about the sun; what are ten circles to life before the flood! The night is just yielding to the day, and in the farthest east streaks of gray light lie floating, dividing the ocean from the sky. How quiet the earth is; and seems to breathe, long and deep, in its huge slumber, not yet awakened. The murmur of the sea is infinite, ceaseless, and breaks, and returns, and breaks, in regular cadence upon the shore; ever speaking the same words—eternity and power. The sea and silent stars, which look down, twinkling, from heaven’s pavement, alone are watchful. How quiet the earth is! The owl sits moping upon her perch in some tall pine, and the wolf, whose cry, whetted by hunger, pierced the shades of night, gorged and reeking, has hastened to his lair. The dew, like rain, is upon the grass and all herbage, and hangs, globular, from every leaf. An incense rises, the incense of the morning, and fills the air; now known only to the wise and the poor, beloved of God. Hour most sweet; when day salutes the night, and night kisses day, to part and meet again.