Ah, which can best be spared? Whom will the rest resign? Or rather, which is best prepared First to engage the mighty foe? 'Tis Death approaches-who will go? The loveliest and the dearest, Whose smile threw gladness round; The loss of whom, to all severest, Shall plant the deepest wound, Their pride, their life, their solace-she, Said the dread voice, my bride shall be. Vain boast! 'Twas not thy choice, O Death, that laid her low. The mandate was a Father's voice, The fleshly robe alone thy prey, I heard from heaven crying, An angel voice that said, Bless'd are the dead, in Jesus dying, Sleep thou in Christ, my sister! Rest I heard, from earth proceeding, This dust, in beauty far exceeding The frail, decaying frame, Shall be refunded all, shall rise Fit for the service of the skies. Ah, soon the cheek is dry, And wounds the deepest heal: Memory at length forgets to sigh, And Grief forgets to feel. Soon spreads the turf, and flowrets bloom O'er the abysses of the tomb. Then, while the cheek is wet, And while the heart is wise, And, blending with each fond regret, Some better thoughts arise, Let Heaven each soften'd heart obtain, Nor let a sister die in vain. THE REVERIE. "Animula vagula, blandula, Nec, ut soles, dabis jocos." Emperor Adrian to his Soul. PART I. ΤΟ O THAT in unfetter'd union Spirit could with spirit blend! O that in unseen communion Thought could hold the distant friend! Who the secrets can unravel Of the body's mystic guest? Who knows how the soul may travel, While, in pleasing thraldom lying, Seal'd in slumber deep it seems, Far abroad it may be flying: What is Sleep? and what are Dreams? Earth, how narrow thy dominions, And how slow the body's pace! O to range on eagle pinions Through illimitable space! What is Thought? In wild succession Whence proceeds the motley train ? What first stamps the vague impression On the ever active brain? What is Thought? and whither tending, Does the subtle phantom flee? Does it, like a moonbeam ending, Has a strange, mysterious feeling, Ne'er impress'd thy pensive mind; Fancy at that moment drew, By coincident remembrance Knew your thoughts, and thought of you? When, at Mercy's footstool bending, Thou hast felt a sacred glow, Faith and Hope to heaven ascending, Love still lingering below ; Say, has ne'er the thought impress'd thee, |