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The storm that wrecks the winter sky
No more disturbs their deep repose,
Than summer evening's latest sigh
I long to lay this painful head
And aching heart beneath the soil,
To slumber in that dreamless bed,
For misery stole me at my birth,
Take home thy child !
On thy dear lap these limbs reclined,
Hark! a strange sound affrights mine ear ; My pulse,-my brain runs wild, -I rave : Ah! who art thou whose voice I hear ?
“I AM THE GRAVE!
" The GRAVE, that never spake before,
Hath found at length a tongue to chide :
Be silent, Pride!
“ Art thou a wretch of hope forlorn,
The victim of consuming care ?
By fell despair ?
“ Do foul misdeeds of former times
Wring with remorse thy guilty breast ?
Murder thy rest ?
“ Lash'd by the furies of the mind,
From wrath and vengeance would'st thou flee? Ah! think not, hope not, fool, to find
A friend in me :
“ By all the terrors of the tomb,—
Beyond the power of tongue to tell :
By death and hell
“ I charge thee Live! repent and pray,
In dust thine infamy deplore:
“ Art thou a WANDERER ?-hast thou seen
O'erwhelming tempests drown thy bark ?
Misfortune's mark ?
“ Art thou a MOURNER ?-hast thou known
The joy of innocent delights ;
And tranquil nights ?
“ O LIVE!-and deeply cherish still
The sweet remembrance of the past :
For peace at last.
“ Though long of winds and waves the sport,
Condemn’d in wretchedness to roam ;
A quiet home.
“ To FRIENDSHIP didst thou trust thy fame,
And was thy friend a deadly foe,-
A surer blow?
“ LIVE!-and repine not o'er his loss,
A loss unworthy to be told :
For friendship's gold.
“ Seek the true treasure, seldom found,
Of power the fiercest griefs to calm ;
With heavenly balm.
“ Did Woman's charms thy youth beguile, —
And did the fair one faithless prove?
And sold thy love?
“ LIVE! 'Twas a false bewildering fire ;
Too often Love's insidious dart
. But kills the heart.
“ Thou yet shalt know how sweet, how dear,
To gaze on listening Beauty's eye ;
Till she reply.
“ A nobler flame shall warm thy breast,
A brighter maiden faithful prove;
In woman's love.
“ Whate'er thy lot—whoe'er thou be,
Confess thy folly,-kiss the rod ;
The hand of God.
“ A bruised reed He will not break,—
Afflictions all his children feel :
He wounds to heal.
“ Humbled beneath his mighty hand,
Prostrate his Providence adore :
To fall no more.
“ Now, traveller in the vale of tears,
To realms of everlasting light,
Pursue thy flight.
“ There is a calm for those who weep,
A rest for weary pilgrims found ;
Low in the ground, “ The Soul, of origin divine,
God's glorious image, freed from clay,
A star of day.
“ The sun is but a spark of fire,
A transient meteor in the sky :
Friend after friend departs ;
Who hath not lost a friend ? There is no union here of hearts,
That finds not here an end : Were this frail world our only rest, Living or dying, none were blest.
Beyond the flight of time,
Beyond this vale of death, -
Where life is not a breath;
There is a world above,
Where parting is unknown, A whole eternity of love,
Form’d for the good alone; . And faith beholds the dying here Translated to that happier sphere.
Thus star by star declines,
Till all are pass'd away,
To pure and perfect day ;
At fond sixteen my roving heart
Where circling woods embower'd the glade,