Saying, We are twins in death, proud Sun! Thy face is cold, thy race is run, "Tis Mercy bids thee go; For thou ten thousand thousand years Hast seen the tide of human tears, That shall no longer flow, What though beneath thee man put forth And arts that made fire, flood, and earth, Yet mourn I not thy parted sway, And triumphs that beneath thee sprang, Entail'd on human hearts. Go, let oblivion's curtain fall Nor with thy rising beams recall Its piteous pageants bring not back, Of pain anew to writhe; Stretch'd in disease's shapes abhorr❜d, Or mown in battle by the sword, Ev'n I am weary in yon skies Test of all sumless agonies, Behold not me expire. My lips that speak thy dirge of death- The eclipse of Nature spreads my pall, This spirit shall return to Him Go, Sun, while Mercy holds me up To drink this last and bitter cup Of grief that man shall taste-- Or shake his trust in God! 1823. A DREAM. WELL may sleep present us fictions, Since our waking moments teem With such fanciful convictions As make life itself a dream.Half our daylight faith's a fable; Sleep disports with shadows too, Seeming in their turn as stable As the world we wake to view. Ne'er by day did Reason's mint Give my thoughts a clearer print Of assured reality, Than was left by Phantasy Stamp'd and colour'd on my sprite, In a dream of yesternight. In a bark, methought, lone steering, Sad regrets from past existence Came like gales of chilling breath; Shadow'd in the forward distance Now seeming more, now less remote, But my soul revived at seeing And as some sweet clarion's breath So his accents bade me brook "Types not this." I said, "fair spirit! That my death hour is not come? Say, what days shall I inherit? Tell my soul their sum.” "No," he said, "yon phantom's aspect, Trust me would appall thee worse, Held in clearly measured prospect:— Ask not for a curse! Make not, for I overhear Thine unspoken thoughts as clear The close-brought tickings of a watch- "Tis to live again, remeasuring Youth's years, like a scene rehearsed, In thy second life-time treasuring Knowledge from the first. Hast thou felt, poor self-deceiver! As to wish its fitful fever Could experience, ten times thine, Wouldst thou bear again Love's trouble Friendship's death-dissever'd ties; Toil to grasp or miss the bubble Of Ambition's prize? |