Methinks the countless swarins thou hast devour'd
And thousands that each hour thou gobblest up,
This, less than this, might gorge thee to the full;
But ali! rapacious still, thou gap'st for more:
Like one, whole days defrauded of his meals,
On whom lank hunger lays her skinny hand,
And whets to keenest eagerness his cravings;
As if diseases, massacres, and poison,
Famine, and war, were not thy caterers.
But know, that thou must render up thy dead, And with high interest too. They are not thine; But only in thy keeping for a seasoll,
Till the great promis'd day of restitution;
When loud diffusive sound from brazen trump
Of strong-lung'd cherub shall alarm thy captives,
And rouse the long, long sleepers into life,
Day-light and liberty.-
Then must thy gates fly open, and reveal
The mines that lay long torming under ground,
In their dark cells immur'd; but now full ripe,
And pure as silver from the crucible,
That twice has stood the torture of the fire
And inquisition of the forge-We know
Th' illustrious Deliverer of mankind,
The Son of God, thee foil'd.-Him in thy pow'r
Theu could'st not hold :-Self-vigorous he rose,
And, shaking off thy fetters, soon retook
The spoils his voluntary yielding lent;
(Sure pledge of our releasement from thy thrall!)
Twice twenty days he sojourn'd here on earth,
And shew'd himself alive to chosen witnesses,
By proofs so strong, that the most slow assenting
Had not a scruple left.-This having done,
He mounted up to heav'n. Methinks I see hinr
Climb the aerial heights, and glide along
Athwart the severing clouds: but the faint eye,
Flung backward in the chace, soon drops its hold,
Disabled quite, and jaded with pursuing.
Heav'n's portals wide expand to let him in;
Nor are his friends shut out: as some great prince
Not for himself alone procures admission,
But for his train.It was his royal will,
That where he is, there should his followers be.
Death only lies between -A gloomy path!
Made yet more gloomy by our coward fears:
But not untrod nor tedious; the fatigue
Will soon go off: besides, there's no by-road
To bliss. Then why, like ill-condition'd children,
Start we at transient hardships in the way
That leads to purer air and softer skies,
And a ne'er-setting sun?-Fools that we are!
We wish to be where sweets unwith'ring bloom;
But strait our wish revoke, and will not go.
So have I seen upon a summer's even,
Fast by a riv'let's brink a youngster play:
How wishfully he looks to stem the tide !
This moment resolute, next unresolv'd:
At last he dips his foot; but as he dips,
His fears redouble, and he runs away
From th' inoffensive stream, unmindful now
Of all the flow'rs that paint the farther bank,
And smil'd so sweet of late!-Thrice welcome
Death!
That after many a painful bleeding step
Conducts us to our home, and lands us safe
On the long-wish'd for shore.-Prodigious change!
Our bane turn'd to a blessing'-Death disarm'd,
Loses his fellness quite.-All thanks to Him
Who scourg'd the venom out.-Sure the last end
Of the good man is peace.-How calm is exit!
Night-dews fall not more gently to the ground,
Nor weary worn-out winds expire so soft.
Behold him! in the evening tide of life,
A life well-spent, whose early care it was
His riper years should not upbraid his green:
By unperceiv'd degrees he wears away;
Yet, like the sun, seems larger at his setting:
(High in his faith and hopes) look how he
reaches
After the prize in view! and, like a bird
That's hamper'd, struggles hard to get away:
Whilst the glad gates of sight are wide expanded
To let new glories in, the first fair fruits
Of the vast-coming harvest!-Then! oh, then!
Each earth-born joy grows vile, or disappears,
Shrunk to a thing of nought.—Oh! how he longs
To have his passport sign'd, and be dismiss'd!
'Tis done! and now he's happy!-The glad soul
Has not a wish uncrown'd.-Ev'n the lag flesh
Rests too in hope of meeting once again
Its better half, never to sunder more:
Nor shall it hope in vain,-The time draws on
When not a single spot of burial-earth,
Whether on land, or in the spacious sea,
But must give back its long-committed dust
Inviolate and faithfully shall these
Make up the full account; not the least atom
Embezzled or mislaid, of the whole tale.
Each soul shall have a body ready-furnish'd;
And each shall have his own.-Hence, ye profane!
Ask not, how this can be?-Sure the same pow'r
That rear'd the piece at first, and took it down,
Can re-assemble the loose scatter'd parts,
And put them as they were.-Almighty God
Has done much more; nor is his arm impair'd
Through length of days: and what he can he
will:
His faithfulness stands bound to see it done.
When the dread trumpet sounds, the slumb'ring
(Not unattentive to the call) shall wake;
And ev'ry joint possess its proper place,
With a new elegance of form, unknown
To its first state.-Nor shall the conscious soul
Mistake its partner, but amidst the crowd,
Singling its other half, into its arms
Shall rush, with all th' impatience of a man
That's new come home, who, having long been
With haste runs over ev'ry different room,
In pain to see the whole. Thrice happy meeting!
Nor time, nor death, shall ever part them more.
'Tis but a night, a long and moonless night;
We make the grave our bed, and then are gone.
Thus, at the shut at even, the weary bird
Leaves the wide air, and in some lonely brake
Cow'rs down, and doses till the dawn of day,
Then claps his well-fledg'd wings, and bears away.
Sigh not, ye winds, as passing o'er
The chambers of the dead ye fly;
Weep not, ye dews, for these no more
Shall ever weep, shall ever sigh.
Why mourn the throbbing heart at rest?
How still it lies within the breast;
Why mourn, since death presents us peace,
And in the grave our sorrows cease?
The shatter'd bark from adverse winds,
Rest in this peaceful haven finds,
And when the storms of life are past,
Hope drops her anchor here at last.
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