| |
| THERE is a calm for those who weep, | |
| A rest for weary pilgrims found, | |
| They softly lie and sweetly sleep | |
| Low in the ground. | |
| |
| The storm that wrecks the winter sky | 5 |
| No more disturbs their deep repose, | |
| Than summer evening’s latest sigh | |
| That shuts the rose. | |
| |
| I long to lay this painful head | |
| And aching heart beneath the soil; | 10 |
| To slumber in that dreamless bed | |
| From all my toil. | |
| |
| For Misery stole me at my birth, | |
| And cast me helpless on the wild: | |
| I perish—O my mother earth! | 15 |
| Take home thy child. | |
| |
| On thy dear lap these limbs reclined | |
| Shall gently moulder into thee; | |
| Nor leave one wretched trace behind | |
| Resembling me. | 20 |
| |
| 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, | 25 |
| Hath found at length a tongue to chide; | |
| O listen!—I will speak no more:— | |
| Be silent, Pride! | |
| |
| “Art thou a wretch of hope forlorn, | |
| The victim of consuming care? | 30 |
| Is thy distracted conscience torn | |
| By fell despair? | |
| |
| “Do foul misdeeds of former times | |
| Wring with remorse thy guilty breast? | |
| And ghosts of unforgiven crimes | 35 |
| Murder thy rest? | |
| |
| “Lash’d by the furies of the mind, | |
| From Wrath and Vengeance wouldst thou flee? | |
| Ah! think not, hope not, fool, to find | |
| A friend in me. | 40 |
| |
| “By all the terrors of the tomb, | |
| Beyond the power of tongue to tell; | |
| By the dread secrets of my womb; | |
| By Death and Hell; | |
| |
| “I charge thee, LIVE!—repent and pray; | 45 |
| In dust thine infamy deplore; | |
| There yet is mercy;—go thy way, | |
| And sin no more. | |
| |
| “Art thou a Mourner?—Hast thou known | |
| The joy of innocent delights, | 50 |
| Endearing days for ever flown, | |
| And tranquil nights? | |
| |
| “O LIVE!—and deeply cherish still | |
| The sweet remembrance of the past: | |
| Rely on Heaven’s unchanging will | 55 |
| For peace at last. | |
| |
| “Art thou a Wanderer?—Hast thou seen | |
| O’erwhelming tempests drown thy bark? | |
| A ship-wreck’d sufferer, hast thou been, | |
| Misfortune’s mark? | 60 |
| |
| “Though long of winds and waves the sport, | |
| Condemn’d in wretchedness to roam, | |
| LIVE!—thou shalt reach a sheltering port, | |
| A quiet home. | |
| |
| “To Friendship didst thou trust thy fame | 65 |
| And was thy friend a deadly foe, | |
| Who stole into thy breast to aim | |
| A surer blow? | |
| |
| “LIVE!—and repine not o’er his loss, | |
| A loss unworthy to be told: | 70 |
| Thou hast mistaken sordid dross | |
| For friendship’s gold. | |
| |
| “Seek the true treasure seldom found, | |
| Of power the fiercest griefs to calm, | |
| And soothe the bosom’s deepest wound | 75 |
| With heavenly balm. | |
| |
| “Did Woman’s charms thy youth beguile, | |
| And did the fair one faithless prove? | |
| Hath she betray’d thee with a smile, | |
| And sold thy love? | 80 |
| |
| “LIVE!—’twas a false bewildering fire: | |
| Too often Love’s insidious dart | |
| Thrills the fond soul with wild desire, | |
| But kills the heart. | |
| |
| “Thou yet shalt know how sweet, how dear, | 85 |
| To gaze on listening Beauty’s eye; | |
| To ask—and pause in hope and fear | |
| Till she reply. | |
| |
| “A nobler flame shall warm thy breast, | |
| A brighter maiden faithful prove; | 90 |
| Thy youth, thine age, shall yet be blest, | |
| In woman’s love. | |
| |
| “——Whate’er thy lot—whoe’er thou be,— | |
| Confess thy folly,—kiss the rod, | |
| And in thy chastening sorrows see | 95 |
| The hand of God. | |
| |
| “A bruisèd reed He will not break; | |
| Afflictions all His children feel: | |
| He wounds them for His mercy’s sake, | |
| He wounds to heal. | 100 |
| |
| “Humbled beneath His mighty hand, | |
| Prostrate His Providence adore: | |
| ’Tis done!—Arise! He bids thee stand, | |
| To fall no more. | |
| |
| “Now, Traveller in the vale of tears, | 105 |
| To realms of everlasting light, | |
| Through Time’s dark wilderness of years, | |
| Pursue thy flight. | |
| |
| “There is a calm for those who weep, | |
| A rest for weary pilgrims found; | 110 |
| And while the mouldering ashes sleep | |
| Low in the ground, | |
| |
| “The Soul, of origin divine, | |
| God’s glorious image, freed from clay, | |
| In Heaven’s eternal sphere shall shine | 115 |
| A star of day! | |
| |
| “The Sun is but a spark of fire, | |
| A transient meteor in the sky: | |
| The Soul, immortal as its sire, | |
| Shall never die.” | 120 |
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