Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Hymn to the Night

Greek epigraph

"Welcome, thrice-prayed-for"—from Euripides' *Orestes*. The Furies grant Orestes peace after his torment. Longfellow's setting up Night as divine mercy.

Άσπασίη, τρίλλιστος
{{sc|I heard}} the trailing garments of the Night
Sweep through her marble halls!
I saw her sable skirts all fringed with light

"sable skirts all fringed"

Black robes edged with light—he's describing the horizon at night, where darkness meets the last glow of sunset or stars. Personification through clothing details.

From the celestial walls!
I felt her presence, by its spell of might,
Stoop o'er me from above;
The calm, majestic presence of the Night,
As of the one I love.
I heard the sounds of sorrow and delight,
The manifold, soft chimes,

"haunted chambers"

Night's spaces are *haunted*—filled with echoes, memories, the day's residue. Not scary haunting, but inhabited by what lingers.

That fill the haunted chambers of the Night,
Like some old poet's rhymes.
From the cool cisterns of the midnight air

"cisterns of midnight air"

Cisterns store water underground—cool, deep, still. Night as a reservoir you drink from, not a blanket that covers you.

My spirit drank repose;
The fountain of perpetual peace flows there,—
From those deep cisterns flows.
O holy Night! from thee I learn to bear
What man has borne before!

"finger on the lips"

The shushing gesture. Night doesn't solve problems—it silences them. Care stops complaining, but it's still there.

Thou layest thy finger on the lips of Care,
And they complain no more.
Peace! Peace! Orestes-like I breathe this prayer!

"Orestes-like I breathe"

Direct callback to the epigraph. He's positioning himself as the tormented Greek hero finding relief, making his personal grief mythological.

Descend with broad-winged flight,
The welcome, the thrice-prayed for, the most fair,
The best-beloved Night!
Source Wikipedia Poetry Foundation

Reading Notes

The Orestes Frame

The Greek epigraph isn't decoration—it's the interpretive key. In Euripides' *Orestes*, the tormented hero (who killed his mother) is finally granted peace by the Furies with the phrase "Welcome, thrice-prayed-for." Longfellow wrote this in 1839, two years after his first wife Mary died during a miscarriage. The Orestes parallel is specific: both men are haunted, both seek relief from mental torment, both find it in a moment of grace.

The poem returns to Orestes explicitly in the final stanza—"Orestes-like I breathe this prayer!"—making the frame complete. This isn't just about liking nighttime. It's about finding temporary relief from grief. The "thrice-prayed for" phrase appears in both the epigraph and the last stanza, bracketing the entire poem with the idea of desperate, repeated pleading.

Notice what Night actually does: she doesn't heal or solve. She "layest thy finger on the lips of Care, / And they complain no more." Care is silenced, not removed. The peace is real but temporary—"I learn to bear / What man has borne before." This is about endurance, not cure.

Sensory Progression and the Cistern

The poem moves through hearing (stanza 1), sight (stanza 1), feeling (stanza 2), hearing again (stanza 3), then drinking (stanza 4). Each sense is a different way of receiving Night's presence, building to the central image: "the cool cisterns of the midnight air."

Cisterns are underground water storage—cool, deep, still, dark. They're not flowing streams or fresh rain; they're collected reserves. "My spirit drank repose" makes Night's peace something you actively take in, not something that washes over you. The "fountain of perpetual peace" flows from these cisterns—Longfellow's mixing his water metaphors deliberately. Cisterns (stored, still) feed fountains (flowing, active). Night offers both: deep reserves and continuous flow.

The "marble halls" and "celestial walls" in stanza 1 set up Night as an architectural space—a temple or palace you enter. By stanza 4, you're drinking from its cisterns. The poem spatializes Night as a sacred building where you go for refuge, making the experience physical and specific rather than vague and atmospheric.