The Reliquary By Bernard and Lucy Barton. With A Prefatory Appeal for Poetry and Poets |
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THE TRAVELLER'S DIRGE. |
 | The Reliquary |  |
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THE TRAVELLER'S DIRGE.
“Captain Clapperton fell into a slumber, from which he awoke
in much perturbation, and said he had heard, with much distinctness,
the tolling of an English funeral-bell. I entreated
him to be composed, and observed that sick people frequently
fancy they see and hear things which can possibly have no
existence.”
Lander's Journal.
In brief and feverish repose
He sank ere life was o'er;
Forgot, awhile, his pains and woes,
But not his native shore!
He dreamt he stood on English ground,
While on his ear there stole
A solemn, yet a soothing sound,
The deep funereal toll!
And sweet the spell of that sad knell
Pour'd for a parted soul!
He sank ere life was o'er;
Forgot, awhile, his pains and woes,
But not his native shore!
He dreamt he stood on English ground,
While on his ear there stole
A solemn, yet a soothing sound,
The deep funereal toll!
And sweet the spell of that sad knell
Pour'd for a parted soul!
He woke! Yet, still upon his ear
Its lingering echoes fell;
On sounds to hallow'd thought so dear
His memory loved to dwell.
Though he might die on Afric's strand,
And waves might wildly roll
Between him and his father-land,
His was that solemn toll!
Spirit away! it seem'd to say,
From earth, and earth's control.
Its lingering echoes fell;
On sounds to hallow'd thought so dear
His memory loved to dwell.
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And waves might wildly roll
Between him and his father-land,
His was that solemn toll!
Spirit away! it seem'd to say,
From earth, and earth's control.
Then mourn him not! an hour shall come
When sound more deep and dread
Than rolling beat of muffled drum,
Or knell which mourns the dead,
Shall tell the day of final doom,
As that loud trumpet peal
Will bid earth's most secluded tomb,
Its hidden dead reveal.
Awake! Awake! Arise!
It shall repeat—Prepare to meet
Your Judge, thron'd in the skies!
When sound more deep and dread
Than rolling beat of muffled drum,
Or knell which mourns the dead,
Shall tell the day of final doom,
As that loud trumpet peal
Will bid earth's most secluded tomb,
Its hidden dead reveal.
Awake! Awake! Arise!
It shall repeat—Prepare to meet
Your Judge, thron'd in the skies!
| The Reliquary | |