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 His pomp, his pride, his skill; 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 recal 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, grass beneath the scythe. Like Ev'n I am weary in yon skies Test of all sumless agonies, Behold not me expire. My lips that speak thy dirge of deathTheir 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! This spirit shall return to Him Go, Sun, while Mercy holds me up To drink this last and bitter cup On Earth's sepulchral clod, 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. Than was left by Phantasy In a bark, methought, lone steering, Sad regrets from past existence Came, like gales of chilling breath; Shadow'd in the forward distance Lay the land of Death. Now seeming more, now less remote, 'Twas mine own similitude. But my soul revived at seeing And as some sweet clarion's breath So his accents bade me brook Like a beaten foe, and fled. "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 appal thee worse, |