| |
| 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 skeletons of nations were | |
| Around that lonely man! | |
| Some had expired in fight,—the brands | |
| Still rusted in their bony hands, | 15 |
| 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! | |
| |
| Yet, prophet-like, that lone one stood, | 20 |
| With dauntless words and high, | |
| That shook the sear leaves from the wood, | |
| As if a storm passed by, | |
| Saying, We are twins in death, proud Sun! | |
| Thy face is cold, thy race is run, | 25 |
| ’T is 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 | 30 |
| 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, | |
| Thou dim, discrownèd king of day; | 35 |
| For all those trophied arts | |
| And triumphs that beneath thee sprang, | |
| Healed not a passion or a pang | |
| Entailed on human hearts. | |
| |
| Go, let oblivion’s curtain fall | 40 |
| Upon the stage of men, | |
| Nor with thy rising beams recall | |
| Life’s tragedy again: | |
| Its piteous pageants bring not back, | |
| Nor waken flesh, upon the rack | 45 |
| Of pain anew to writhe; | |
| Stretched in disease’s shapes abhorred, | |
| Or mown in battle by the sword, | |
| Like grass beneath the scythe. | |
| |
| Even I am weary in yon skies | 50 |
| To watch thy fading fire; | |
| Test of all sumless agonies, | |
| Behold not me expire. | |
| My lips, that speak thy dirge of death,— | |
| Their rounded gasp and gurgling breath | 55 |
| To see thou shalt not boast. | |
| The eclipse of Nature spreads my pall, | |
| The majesty of darkness shall | |
| Receive my parting ghost! | |
| |
| This spirit shall return to Him | 60 |
| 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 | |
| In bliss unknown to beams of thine, | 65 |
| By Him recalled to breath, | |
| Who captive led captivity, | |
| Who robbed the grave of victory, | |
| And took the sting from death! | |
| |
| Go, Sun, while mercy holds me up | 70 |
| 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, | |
| Thou saw’st the last of Adam’s race, | 75 |
| On earth’s sepulchral clod, | |
| The darkening universe defy | |
| To quench his immortality, | |
| Or shake his trust in God! | |
| |
