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THE BRIDGE-JUMPER'S STORY.
Oh, who can tell what spirit brought
To earth that firebrand Suicide,
Or whose insanity first taught
The art to those whose courage died,
And lived again in coarser thought?
The selfish crime doth still abide,
And murders mortals far and wide.
To earth that firebrand Suicide,
Or whose insanity first taught
The art to those whose courage died,
And lived again in coarser thought?
The selfish crime doth still abide,
And murders mortals far and wide.
Oh, who describes the dark despair
That falls in floods upon the heart,
And drowns in blood the healthy care
That breeds employment's cheerful art;
Then clogs the tempest-shrieking air
With terror's swiftly-flying dart,
To force the frenzied brain apart?
That falls in floods upon the heart,
And drowns in blood the healthy care
That breeds employment's cheerful art;
Then clogs the tempest-shrieking air
With terror's swiftly-flying dart,
To force the frenzied brain apart?
Oh, who can count the many woes
To which the lonely crime is traced?
The lovers false, the genuine foes,
The staining lash of foul disgrace,
Gaunt poverty's heart-weakening blows,
Red dissipation's prizeless race,
And lunacy's uncouth embrace?
To which the lonely crime is traced?
The lovers false, the genuine foes,
The staining lash of foul disgrace,
Gaunt poverty's heart-weakening blows,
Red dissipation's prizeless race,
And lunacy's uncouth embrace?
115
Oh, who can tell the thoughts of him
Who knows that in a second's time
His earthly eyes must stagger dim,
His soul desert the earthly clime—
He hopes life's lamp once more to trim,
He fears, to plunge through depthless slime
And drag the fetters of his crime?
Who knows that in a second's time
His earthly eyes must stagger dim,
His soul desert the earthly clime—
He hopes life's lamp once more to trim,
He fears, to plunge through depthless slime
And drag the fetters of his crime?
He knows not whether pitying friends
May meet him at the shattered door,
And with their kindness make amends,
For fate, of what has gone before,
And aid the mercy Heaven extends
To stanch his pain-charged spirit-gore,
And soothe him sweetly evermore;
May meet him at the shattered door,
And with their kindness make amends,
For fate, of what has gone before,
And aid the mercy Heaven extends
To stanch his pain-charged spirit-gore,
And soothe him sweetly evermore;
Or whether he be doomed to bear
The finger-tip of cruel scorn,
And in the silent spirit-air
May hear the words, “A coward born!”
As, followed by a new despair,
O'er roads beset with poisoned thorn,
He runs a race of rage forlorn;
The finger-tip of cruel scorn,
And in the silent spirit-air
May hear the words, “A coward born!”
As, followed by a new despair,
O'er roads beset with poisoned thorn,
He runs a race of rage forlorn;
Or whether, o'er his troubled soul,
Oblivion as a mercy creeps,
And guards him out of care's control
Within its broad, mysterious deeps;
And thus while years above him roll,
He free from pain and pleasure sleeps,
And time's deep ocean o'er him sweeps;
Oblivion as a mercy creeps,
And guards him out of care's control
Within its broad, mysterious deeps;
And thus while years above him roll,
He free from pain and pleasure sleeps,
And time's deep ocean o'er him sweeps;
Or whether from this plunge of fate
He sinks in valleys red with fire,
Inhabited by fiends of hate—
New cruelties their sole desire—
Who hope their sufferings to abate
By helping hell's demoniac ire
To make his sufferings yet more dire!
He sinks in valleys red with fire,
Inhabited by fiends of hate—
New cruelties their sole desire—
Who hope their sufferings to abate
By helping hell's demoniac ire
To make his sufferings yet more dire!
116
And who can tell how long he thought
And brooded o'er his deadly scheme,
And webs of fact and fancy wrought
To make the project easy seem;
And his weak muscles courage taught,
By his despairing spirit's scream,
In daylight's thought and midnight's dream;
And brooded o'er his deadly scheme,
And webs of fact and fancy wrought
To make the project easy seem;
And his weak muscles courage taught,
By his despairing spirit's scream,
In daylight's thought and midnight's dream;
And who can tell, when the frail cord
That holds his life once loose is thrown,
And helplessly he rushes toward
The unescapable unknown,
How suddenly is now abhorred
The death he sought in moments flown; ...
If life once more could be his own!
That holds his life once loose is thrown,
And helplessly he rushes toward
The unescapable unknown,
How suddenly is now abhorred
The death he sought in moments flown; ...
If life once more could be his own!
If yet again he could but try
This world's rough tangle to make straight!
A hundred methods meet his eye
To open rescue's gilded gate;
A thousand griefs that, when so nigh,
So heavy—now have little weight;
Could he but live, now 'tis too late!
This world's rough tangle to make straight!
A hundred methods meet his eye
To open rescue's gilded gate;
A thousand griefs that, when so nigh,
So heavy—now have little weight;
Could he but live, now 'tis too late!
And all the pages of his life
Turn, rustling, in his opening brain:
The love, the hate, the peace, the strife,
The hope, the grief, the loss, the gain;
Once more disease's hiltless knife—
Once more the joy of banished pain;
The good, the bad, the true, the vain;
Turn, rustling, in his opening brain:
The love, the hate, the peace, the strife,
The hope, the grief, the loss, the gain;
Once more disease's hiltless knife—
Once more the joy of banished pain;
The good, the bad, the true, the vain;
He lives a lifetime of despair
Between his dying and his death;
As, crucified, he lingers there,
A loud voice drowns his burdened breath:
“Mercy in earth or heaven or air
Is not for him who blasphemeth
Against God's image!” Thus it saith.
Between his dying and his death;
As, crucified, he lingers there,
A loud voice drowns his burdened breath:
“Mercy in earth or heaven or air
Is not for him who blasphemeth
Against God's image!” Thus it saith.
117
So when I leaped from yonder span,
In death my burning soul to lave,
Hot demons through the spirit ran,
And held me as their suffering slave.
A long eternity began;
And every instant was a grave,
That pain, instead of slumber, gave.
In death my burning soul to lave,
Hot demons through the spirit ran,
And held me as their suffering slave.
A long eternity began;
And every instant was a grave,
That pain, instead of slumber, gave.
An instant may be made a year;
A second's thousandth million part
May be an age of pain and fear,
Whose every moment probes the heart;
And many heavens or hells can here
Be lived, ere for the land we start,
Whose borders know no earthly chart.
A second's thousandth million part
May be an age of pain and fear,
Whose every moment probes the heart;
And many heavens or hells can here
Be lived, ere for the land we start,
Whose borders know no earthly chart.
God brought me back; 'twas thus that I
Once more life's honeyed air could sip;
He somehow heard my silent cry,
Recalled me in the deathward trip,
And brought me back once more to try,
With streaming face and pallid lip,
Eternity's apprenticeship.
Once more life's honeyed air could sip;
He somehow heard my silent cry,
Recalled me in the deathward trip,
And brought me back once more to try,
With streaming face and pallid lip,
Eternity's apprenticeship.
This trembling world doth not contain—
However deep, however wide—
Enough of sorrow, fright, or pain,
Or woe unknown, or grief untried,
Or frost of heart, or fire of brain,
Or anything—to drive or guide
My steps again to suicide!
However deep, however wide—
Enough of sorrow, fright, or pain,
Or woe unknown, or grief untried,
Or frost of heart, or fire of brain,
Or anything—to drive or guide
My steps again to suicide!
I stand before the gazing throng,
Not for the paltry gain of purse:
To pray them not from shame or wrong
To fly to evils that are worse.
And hoping, as my race among,
This hideous story I rehearse,
That God may stay the selfish curse.
Not for the paltry gain of purse:
To pray them not from shame or wrong
To fly to evils that are worse.
And hoping, as my race among,
This hideous story I rehearse,
That God may stay the selfish curse.
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