 | Rhapsodies |  |
69
LINES To the departed Spirit of a Parent.
Where rests she now? with still oblivious Death,In damp, cold, pestilential sepulchre:
With Death? yes Death, fell monarch of the tomb,
Grim despot of the realms of night. O grave!
Thou gap 'twixt man and dread eternity,
Thou hast enclosed her: yes, beyond recal
Of mortal man she rests. Nor filial pray'r,
No nor a daughter's pangs can move thee now
To vent the sigh or shed one pitying tear.
Where's nature—kindred—where those tender ties
That link'd us to each other? disslov'd, burst
By the fell grasp of man's relentless foe,
In whom is vested will and power supreme
To judge, condemn, and execute. O Death!
Methinks I see thee, thou grim king of horrors!
Thy throne's a myriad of grinning skulls;
Thy footstool is a lusty youth in 's prime,
Wreathing in the last agony; thy crown's
A toothless jaw, and from each cavity
A winged arrow springs with poison tipp'd.
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But how imagine, then, his ghastly visage?
Deep in each socket rolls a pallid flame,
Glutting itself upon a mother's pangs,
And, hungry grinning at the new-born babe,
Seals it, with look malignant, for his own;
While from his jaws the flesh-devouring worms
Fantastic twine about his chatt'ring teeth,
Kissing his morbid lips. O horrible!
The dread thought chills and unnerves my manhood.
Avaunt then, thou brain-engender'd spectre!
Least imagination kindle a flame,
Which godlike reason cannot quell. What then?
And is thy reign eternal? Is she gone,
To own thy sov'reignty for ever? No—
The God of light appears: before his face
Crumble to dust the adamantine gates;
And where dwelt horrors and chaotic gloom,
Reigns glory everlasting. Blessed change!
And thou, Divine assurance! doubly bless'd!
That giv'st for death an immortality—
Thee will I cherish till life's fever's o'er,
Which shall translate me hence to taste with thee
Of bliss beyond the grave.
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