University of Virginia Library

CONTEMPLATIONS IN SOLITUDE.

The golden Summer Heavens have lavished here
The bright luxuriance loveliest climates wear!
The beauty of the fair and fervid day
Smiles o'er the Earth, as though 'twould ever stay—
Unchanged—unchilled!—Sweet promise! but how vain
Each morn must pass—each glowing noon must wane;
Each wreath of joy must perish and decay,
And all we love must fleet and die away;
All things must bow—as all have bowed before—
To Death! the strong one! Rock of Hope's bright shore;
Life's gilded barks come gaily hurrying on,
But to be dashed to fragments there—undone!
Death! ever when I dwell in solitude,
Dost thou impress my mind's deep dreamy mood;
Though none can fixedly e'er look on thee,
Since still thou seemest, pale shade, to melt, to flee!
From the long-yearning painful gaze we cast,
On the dread conqueror of the captive past!
And yet at times, how strangely, deeply near,
The Pale One—stern and sombre doth appear—
The Pale One! He the unearthly form of Fear!
Even now I greet him with an awe profound—
My soul of souls his presence doth surround!
And while it labours with that thought of Death—
Passion melts from it, like some snow-wrought wreath!
Oh! thou whose valveless vault—whose keyless keep—
Contains all those who walked on earth to weep!
All tribes and nations that have seen the sun,
And the short race of mortal trial run;
All vile—all virtuous—and all weak and wise—
For all lie there concealed from kindred eyes;
All who have nameless and neglected died—
All who through Earth's old Empires proud and wide
Sent their deep name—their deep and deathless name—
To dwell for aey, with Memory and with Fame;
For all their mighty echoes to repeat,
For future ages rapturously to greet
For ever and for ever—all from whom
The Light of Life hath melted—turned to gloom;
How doth the shadow of thy presence cast
A hue that clouds the Present like the Past—
All sternly sombre—and all sadly still,
Our souls beneath that burthening presence thrill;
Whether 'tis where the humble village spire
Points to the Heavens—no pyramid points higher!
And the sepulchral ground—the hallowed ground—
Lies heaped on many slumbering heads around;
Or where the gay—the great—the busy crowd—
Where the vast cities' roar is long and loud,
And palaced streets spread lengthening fair and proud;
Or where rush wild the mountain's swollen floods,
Or the deep Funeral Shades of sounding woods;
Blackened by mighty firs—in gloom extend,
Thickening and darkening, ever without end;
Or where sweet sunny vales laugh bright and fair,
To shades unknown—to Light and Heaven laid bare!
Death! Death! if thou art there—all seems around,
Within thy chain of ghastly terrors bound;
And this all-wonderful and glorious Earth,
So oft resounding with the voice of mirth—
In its magnificence of Strength—Light—Bloom—
Appears one vast and proudly Vaulted Tomb!
But Earth shall yet behold the mighty hour,
Which must deprive thee of thy fearful power!
When called from thee, and doom, and dust to part,
Her summoned sons shall from her bosom start!
Uplifted from their bed of ages then,
And quickened into Being once again—
While she herself is split, and racked, and riven,
And bared before the burning eye of Heaven—
And scathed—by thunder-stroke on thunder-stroke—
Half crushed to flame-transpierced mist and smoke!
Which, 'mid the horrors of that final storm,
A troubled halo fearfully shall form
Around the heads of those who long had slept,
And the strict fast of Death's stern mystery kept!
Still, when my Soul dwells deep on thee, oh! Death!
Each passion melts like snow in pallid wreath;
And leaves it calm, and holy, and resigned,
While solemn thoughs arise within the mind;
And 'tis not marvellous that when alone,
The thoughts should take a sad and sombre tone—
And dwell—Oh! dark and awful Death on thee,
With whom all living must so shortly be!
And yet, this lovely World doth ne'er appear
To shrink from thee with any gloomy fear!—
Though scarce a spot smiles on its glorious face,
That is not, Death! thy Province and thy Place!
Yet oh! the bloom, the splendour, and the light—
That crowns it still, as Earth laughed in despite
At thy worst terrors—and rejoiced without
One shadow of despondence or of doubt!