Self-Interogation
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- "The evening passes fast away.
- 'Tis almost time to rest;
- What thoughts has left the vanished day,
- What feelings in thy breast?
- "The vanished day? It leaves a sense
- Of labour hardly done;
- Of little gained with vast expense--
- A sense of grief alone?
- "Time stands before the door of Death,
- Upbraiding bitterly
- And Conscience, with exhaustless breath,
- Pours black reproach on me:
- "And though I've said that Conscience lies
- And Time should Fate condemn;
- Still, sad Repentance clouds my eyes,
- And makes me yield to them!
- "Then art thou glad to seek repose?
- Art glad to leave the sea,
- And anchor all thy weary woes
- In calm Eternity?
- "Nothing regrets to see thee go--
- Not one voice sobs' farewell;'
- And where thy heart has suffered so,
- Canst thou desire to dwell?"
- "Alas! the countless links are strong
- That bind us to our clay;
- The loving spirit lingers long,
- And would not pass away!
- "And rest is sweet, when laurelled fame
- Will crown the soldier's crest;
- But a brave heart, with a tarnished name,
- Would rather fight than rest.
- "Well, thou hast fought for many a year,
- Hast fought thy whole life through,
- Hast humbled Falsehood, trampled Fear;
- What is there left to do?
- "'Tis true, this arm has hotly striven,
- Has dared what few would dare;
- Much have I done, and freely given,
- But little learnt to bear!
- "Look on the grave where thou must sleep
- Thy last, and strongest foe;
- It is endurance not to weep,
- If that repose seem woe.
- "The long war closing in defeat--
- Defeat serenely borne,--
- Thy midnight rest may still be sweet,
- And break in glorious morn!"
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