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For the pillowy clouds that around him lie,
Soften, but din not his light;
And flowers that are bending in clusters fair,
Things that are beauteous, lust'rous, gay,
To the raptured view arise,
For nature spreads forth her divine array
And her sweetest of sounds; for from every tree Peals out the full gush of minstrelsy.
All is gladness, freshness, and life,
And can death intrude?—the tomb
That is loading the wings of the indolent breeze, And see, what sorrowful groups are these!
From yon grove there issues a band
Of infant forms, clad in white,
And upborne by many a small fair hand,
And behind there are duskier forms, who weep
No wonder, I wot, that ye mourn,
Thus early to seek the tomb,
Tho' unseen by me all those natural arts
Fair ones, bearing your playmate now,
Soon pain and disease may some of ye bow
Of some the worse fate may be,
Through long, long years, silent strife to wage,
Where now is the feeling so gay,
That gladdened my heart erewhile ? Swept like the sunbeam of winter away,
And tears take place of a smile.
Less bright do the flowers seem, less vivid the green That funeral has passed like a cloud o'er the scene.
O, each moment, or bright, or chill,
He owns no season he knows no stay
Sunny ringlets he spares not, nor tresses of grey.
I cannot weep! I dare not pray!
The very source of tears is dry!
A dark cloud lowers before mine eye-
While with resistless pangs I strive,
As never guilty wretch hath striven;
That voice of vengeance comes and came;
Ye guilty joys! whose transient glow
I pledged my forfeit soul to share;— Where are your false illusions now?
Your evanescent transports, where? Alas! the only fruits ye bear,
For which I dared my heaven resign, Are death, and darkness, and despair
And these accursed fruits are mine!
Death!-oh! I cannot, will not die !—
Ye faithless demons ! come, ah! come, And snatch me from eternity,
And save me from the threatening tomb.→→ ye not lure me to my doom?
Oh come, ere life's last tie shall sever, Ere hope's last ray in endless gloom
Shall set and I am lost for ever !
They pass and shall I turn mine eye
To thee, my father and my God? Alas! while youth and joy were high
Untouched by love, by fear unawed; I spurned thy mercy. Now thy rod
Smites deep-but oh! I dare not crave The boon thy grace had then bestowedThere is no mercy in the grave.
It comes ! it comes! I feel it now-
The pangs of hell are in my heart
I faint beneath that cureless smart
Oh! mercy!-ere the strife is o'er :
Ere the last link is torn apart,
And I am lost for ever more!
THE LAST UNSENTENCED SINNER.
'Twas a dread vision!
Methought I stood before the judgment-seat