 | The Literary Works of James Smetham |  |
254
OBLIVION
Oblivion claims and equals all
Of that which was and that which is;
I hear the distant torrent fall
And crumble in the dumb abyss.
I see the foaming ages sweep
To perish in the utter deep.
Of that which was and that which is;
I hear the distant torrent fall
And crumble in the dumb abyss.
I see the foaming ages sweep
To perish in the utter deep.
Why, throbbing heart, wilt thou impose
Thy treasured toil on thankless death,
Who neither aim nor value knows,
But flings the jewelled drop beneath
The tear-drifts ever plunging down
As rich, as fruitless as thine own?
Thy treasured toil on thankless death,
Who neither aim nor value knows,
But flings the jewelled drop beneath
The tear-drifts ever plunging down
As rich, as fruitless as thine own?
For dying ever, ever born,
Much done and nought accomplishéd,
Man is his own, his fellow's scorn,
He envies and laments the dead,
And, panting still for something new,
Nought does but they were wont to do.
Much done and nought accomplishéd,
Man is his own, his fellow's scorn,
He envies and laments the dead,
And, panting still for something new,
Nought does but they were wont to do.
The circuit of the whirling winds
Scoffs rudely at his vague desires,
Which neither law nor fulness binds,
Whom the sweet course of nature tires,
Who, where broad rivers greet the sea,
Mourns only their monotony.
Scoffs rudely at his vague desires,
Which neither law nor fulness binds,
Whom the sweet course of nature tires,
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Mourns only their monotony.
Oh, cease thy dread o'er-labouring course,
Thou myriad-tongued, relentless Time!
My soul is crushed beneath thy force
Of countless motions raised sublime
Before the view of human thought,
Whose order it inherits not.
Thou myriad-tongued, relentless Time!
My soul is crushed beneath thy force
Of countless motions raised sublime
Before the view of human thought,
Whose order it inherits not.
Here, stretched upon the mountain grass,
I see the imperious sun ascend,
And watch the sparkling moments pass,
As from the giddy zenith tend
Those fiery wheels, till he in haste
Has like a gasping racer passed.
I see the imperious sun ascend,
And watch the sparkling moments pass,
As from the giddy zenith tend
Those fiery wheels, till he in haste
Has like a gasping racer passed.
Then anguished in the twilight see,
With brimming eyes, the lofty sage,
Who watched in deep antiquity
That sun fulfil his pilgrimage.
His hopes, his tears, with mine the same,
Earth bears no echo of his name.
With brimming eyes, the lofty sage,
Who watched in deep antiquity
That sun fulfil his pilgrimage.
His hopes, his tears, with mine the same,
Earth bears no echo of his name.
I bless the dead, whose scattered dust
Has joined new forms of shifting life;
I bless the soul escaped its trust,
Its bonds, its wonder, and its strife;
Thee, Christ, I bless, who Death o'erthrew,
Whose spirit maketh all things new.
Has joined new forms of shifting life;
I bless the soul escaped its trust,
Its bonds, its wonder, and its strife;
Thee, Christ, I bless, who Death o'erthrew,
Whose spirit maketh all things new.
| The Literary Works of James Smetham | |