 | The Poetical Works (1855) |  |
ON THE DESTRUCTION OF LISBON, 1756.
One moment overturns the toils of man,And humbles greatness: Lisbon sinks in dust.
Earthquakes, and floods, and fires, and falling towers,
Thunder among the scatter'd crowds! Rich, poor,
Young, old, slave, peasant, prince, unheeded, fly,
From the swift rage of death, and strive to grasp
At wretchedness! When I consider these;
When I consider scenes of ancient times,
Ruins on ruins, thrones on buried thrones;
And walk on earth as on a globe of graves;
When the high heavens I view, and there behold
Planets, stars, comets, worlds innumerous,
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My spirits shrink within me: what is man!
How poor a worm!—but, when I meditate
His boundless cogitations, high desires;
And th' infinite Creator, all in all,
Gracious and wise;—each gloomy fear retires,
And heaven's eternal light revives my soul.
| The Poetical Works (1855) | |