University of Virginia Library

ON PASSING A CORPSE LYING IN STATE AT NAPLES.

There thou art laid deprived of bloom and breath,
With all the heavy circumstance of death
Around thee, 'tis a most funereal gloom,
Which these sad tapers mournfully illume.
A sable canopy doth o'er thee frown,
Deep sable curtains round thee darkle down,
And make a midnight gloom in this bright place,
And half the day's glad beauty seem to chase.
Statues of silver bend thy form beside,
Thus picturing weeping mourners heavy-eyed—
While thou unconscious liest composed in death,
Deprived of sense and strength, of bloom and breath.
Of bloom! perchance in sooth thou wert in age,
Right glad at length thy mortal thirst to assuage,
At the immortal fountains! glad indeed
To put aside this coil of fleshly weed,
And spring in freedom to thy skyey home,
And we surround thee with vain show of gloom!
Our state it suiteth better far than thine,
Thou never more may'st grieve, nor sigh, nor pine—
For Joy and Peace, that like two Angels still
Are seen (from Expectation's soaring hill)
Hovering on our horizon—never here
To be approached by faultering foot more near.
Perchance thou wert in age—the o'ershadowing veil,
Spread o'er thine altered features chill and pale,
Hinders the eye from judging of thee well,
We know but Death beneath that veil doth dwell!—
Sleep soundly—sweetly sleep! poor pallid clay,
Sleep hour by hour, sleep night and morn and day,
Thy workday care is done, thy toil is o'er,
Sleep the sweet sleep to be disturb'd no more;
Cross thy calm hands on thy calm pulseless breast,
And take thy fill of deep unbroken rest.
No part laborious canst thou have to play,
Unblamed sluggard! sleep thine hours away.
The great of earth, the noble, and the wise,
To do proud deeds, and think stern thoughts must rise.
But thou—shalt still more reckless, thoughtless be
Than the swathed child laid on the nurse's knee;
Thou shalt not hunger, and thou shalt not thirst,
On thee the elements may do their worst—
War and its ravage can do thee no harm,
Thou art girdled round with an enduring charm;
Armies might waste their valourous rage on thee,
But gain defeat—be mock'd with victory!
Sleep soundly! Sweetly sleep! thou need'st not fear,
Nothing can wrong thee in this earthly sphere;
Kings may have guards to watch around their throne,
Vassalls and slaves—for thee thou needest none!
No King was e'er so safe as thou art now,
Fierce strifes might waste whole tribes and realms—but thou!
The world's crash should not rouse thee—not so! then
That trump shall sound which wakes the dead again!