NARCISSA.
51
Birth's feebly Cry, and Death's deep dismal Groan,
Are slender Tributes low-taxt Nature pays
For mighty Gain: The Gain of each, a Life!
But O! the last the former so transcends,
Life dies, compar'd; Life lives beyond the Grave.
And feel I, Death! no Joy from Thought of Thee?
Death, the great Counsellor, who Man inspires
With ev'ry nobler Thought, and fairer Deed!
Death, the Deliverer, who rescues Man!
Death, the Rewarder, who the Rescu'd crowns!
Death, that absolves my Birth; a Curse without it!
Rich Death, that realizes all my Cares,
Toils, Virtues, Hopes; without it a Chimera!
Death, of all Pain the Period, not of Joy;
Joy's Source, and Subject, still subsist unhurt;
One, in my Soul; and One, in her great Sire;
Tho' the four Winds were warring for my Dust.
Yes, and from Winds, and Waves, and central Night,
Tho' prison'd there, my Dust too I reclaim,
(To Dust when drop proud Nature's proudest Spheres)
And live intire. Death is the Crown of Life;
Were Death deny'd, poor Man would live in vain;
Were Death deny'd, to live would not be Life;
Were Death deny'd, ev'n Fools would wish to die.
Death wounds to cure: We fall; we rise; we reign!
Spring from our Fetters; fasten in the Skies;
Where blooming Eden withers in our Sight:
Death gives us more than was in Eden lost.
This King of Terrors is the Prince of Peace.
When shall I die to Vanity, Pain, Death?
When shall I die?—When shall I live for ever?
Are slender Tributes low-taxt Nature pays
For mighty Gain: The Gain of each, a Life!
But O! the last the former so transcends,
Life dies, compar'd; Life lives beyond the Grave.
And feel I, Death! no Joy from Thought of Thee?
Death, the great Counsellor, who Man inspires
With ev'ry nobler Thought, and fairer Deed!
Death, the Deliverer, who rescues Man!
Death, the Rewarder, who the Rescu'd crowns!
Death, that absolves my Birth; a Curse without it!
Rich Death, that realizes all my Cares,
Toils, Virtues, Hopes; without it a Chimera!
Death, of all Pain the Period, not of Joy;
Joy's Source, and Subject, still subsist unhurt;
One, in my Soul; and One, in her great Sire;
Tho' the four Winds were warring for my Dust.
Yes, and from Winds, and Waves, and central Night,
Tho' prison'd there, my Dust too I reclaim,
(To Dust when drop proud Nature's proudest Spheres)
And live intire. Death is the Crown of Life;
Were Death deny'd, poor Man would live in vain;
Were Death deny'd, to live would not be Life;
Were Death deny'd, ev'n Fools would wish to die.
Death wounds to cure: We fall; we rise; we reign!
Spring from our Fetters; fasten in the Skies;
Where blooming Eden withers in our Sight:
Death gives us more than was in Eden lost.
This King of Terrors is the Prince of Peace.
When shall I die to Vanity, Pain, Death?
When shall I die?—When shall I live for ever?
NIGHT
