| |
| ALL worldly shapes shall melt in gloom, | |
| The Sun himself must die, | |
| Before this mortal shall assume | |
| Its immortality! | |
| I saw a vision in my sleep, | 5 |
| That gave my spirit strength to sweep | |
| Adown the gulf of Time! | |
| I saw the last of human mould | |
| That shall creation’s death behold, | |
| As Adam saw her prime! | 10 |
| |
| The Sun’s eye had a sickly glare, | |
| The Earth with age was wan, | |
| The skeletons of nations were | |
| Around that lonely man! | |
| Some had expired in fight,—the brands | 15 |
| Still rusted in their bony hands; | |
| In plague and famine some! | |
| Earth’s cities had no sound nor tread; | |
| And ships were drifting with the dead | |
| To shores where all was dumb! | 20 |
| |
| Yet, prophet-like, that lone one stood | |
| With dauntless words and high, | |
| That shook the sere leaves from the wood | |
| As if a storm pass’d by, | |
| Saying, ‘We are twins in death, proud Sun! | 25 |
| 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. | 30 |
| |
| ‘What though beneath thee man put forth | |
| His pomp, his pride, his skill; | |
| And arts that made fire, flood, and earth, | |
| The vassals of his will?— | |
| Yet mourn I not thy parted sway, | 35 |
| Thou dim discrownèd king of day: | |
| For all those trophied arts | |
| And triumphs that beneath thee sprang, | |
| Heal’d not a passion or a pang | |
| Entail’d on human hearts. | 40 |
| |
| ‘Go, let Oblivion’s curtain fall | |
| Upon the stage of men, | |
| Nor with thy rising beams recall | |
| Life’s tragedy again: | |
| Its piteous pageants bring not back, | 45 |
| Nor waken flesh, upon the rack | |
| Of pain anew to writhe: | |
| Stretch’d in disease’s shapes abhorr’d, | |
| Or mown in battle by the sword, | |
| Like grass beneath the scythe. | 50 |
| |
| ‘Ev’n I am weary in yon skies | |
| To watch thy fading fire; | |
| Test of all sumless agonies, | |
| Behold not me expire. | |
| My lips that speak thy dirge of death— | 55 |
| Their rounded gasp and gurgling breath | |
| To see thou shalt not boast. | |
| The eclipse of Nature spreads my pall,— | |
| The majesty of darkness shall | |
| Receive my parting ghost! | 60 |
| |
| ‘This spirit shall return to Him | |
| Who gave its heavenly spark; | |
| Yet think not, Sun, it shall be dim | |
| When thou thyself art dark! | |
| No! it shall live again, and shine | 65 |
| In bliss unknown to beams of thine, | |
| By Him recall’d to breath, | |
| Who captive led Captivity, | |
| Who robb’d the grave of Victory,— | |
| And took the sting from Death! | 70 |
| |
| ‘Go, Sun, while Mercy holds me up | |
| On Nature’s awful waste | |
| To drink this last and bitter cup | |
| Of grief that man shall taste— | |
| Go, tell the Night that hides thy face, | 75 |
| Thou saw’st the last of Adam’s race, | |
| On Earth’s sepulchral clod, | |
| The darkening universe defy | |
| To quench his Immortality, | |
| Or shake his trust in God!’ | 80 |
| |
