 | The last night of Pompeii |  |
FIFTH VOICE.
And must we die?
In being's brightness and the bloom of thought!
Sepulchred beneath a sunless sky!
And all the spirit's godlike powers be—nought!
In being's brightness and the bloom of thought!
Sepulchred beneath a sunless sky!
And all the spirit's godlike powers be—nought!
185
Wail o'er thy doom, fair boy!
Shriek thy last sorrow, maiden! for the doom,
That o'er earth's tearless joy
Rolls gory mid the shadows of the tomb!
The tomb! there shall be none
Save dark-red shroudings of the lava sea—
The fire shall quench the agonizing groan—
Moments become—eternity!
And must we perish so?
Sink, shuddering, thus and gasp our breath in flame?
And o'er our unremembered burial flow
The pomps and pageants of a worthless name?
At wonted feasts, no voices shall salute—
In temple hymns, no soul-breathed strain awake
Our memories from the realms for ever mute—
But o'er our graves barbarian kings shall slake
Their demon thirst of gore—
And redcross slayers march in bandit ranks,
From Alp and sea and shore,
To stain the Asian sands with hordes of slaughtered Franks!
Wail for the joy that never more shall breathe!
Wail for the lore and love, the bloom and bliss
That to the ocean world of fire bequeathe
Their paradise of hope! and this
Shriek thy last sorrow, maiden! for the doom,
That o'er earth's tearless joy
Rolls gory mid the shadows of the tomb!
The tomb! there shall be none
Save dark-red shroudings of the lava sea—
The fire shall quench the agonizing groan—
Moments become—eternity!
And must we perish so?
Sink, shuddering, thus and gasp our breath in flame?
And o'er our unremembered burial flow
The pomps and pageants of a worthless name?
At wonted feasts, no voices shall salute—
In temple hymns, no soul-breathed strain awake
Our memories from the realms for ever mute—
But o'er our graves barbarian kings shall slake
Their demon thirst of gore—
And redcross slayers march in bandit ranks,
From Alp and sea and shore,
To stain the Asian sands with hordes of slaughtered Franks!
Wail for the joy that never more shall breathe!
Wail for the lore and love, the bloom and bliss
That to the ocean world of fire bequeathe
Their paradise of hope! and this
186
Must be our only trust—to quickly die—
And leave the pleasant things of earth behind;
Through thousand ages unremembered lie
Unknown to sunbeam smile or breath of summer wind!”
And leave the pleasant things of earth behind;
Through thousand ages unremembered lie
Unknown to sunbeam smile or breath of summer wind!”
| The last night of Pompeii | |