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He owns no season—he knows no stay—
I cannot weep I I dare not pray!
The very source of tears is dry!
Avails the prayer of agony?
A chain is twined around my heart—
I cannot tear those bonds apart.
While with resistless pangs I strive,
As never guilty wretch hath striven , A voice, whene'er I shriek, ' Forgive!'
Replies,' Thou can'st not be forgiven.' I know not if from hell or heaven,
That voice of vengeance comes and came; But on my heart its words are graven,
In characters of living flame.
Ye guilty joys I whose transient glow
I pledged my forfeit soul to share;— Where are your false illusions now?
Your evanescent transports, where? Alas! the only fruits ye bear,
For which I dared my heaven resign, Are death, and darkness, and despair—
And these accursed fruits are mine 1
Death !—oh! I cannot, will not die I—
Ye faithless demons I come, ah! come, And snatch me from eternity,
And save me from the threatening tomb.. Did ye not lure me to my doom?
Oh come, ere life's last tie shall sever, Ere hope's last ray in endless gloom
Shall set—and I am lost for ever I
They pass—and shall I turn mine eye
To thee, my father and my God? Alas! while youth and joy were high
Untouched by love, by fear unawed; I spurned thy mercy. Now thy rod
Smites deep—but oh! I dare not crave The boon thy grace had then bestowed.—
There is no mercy in the grave.
It comes I it comes! I feel it now—
The foe hath aimed his final dart; The dews of death are on my brow—
The pangs of hell are in my heart— I faint beneath that cureless smart—
Oh I mercy I—ere the strife is o'er: Ere the last link is torn apart,
And I am lost for ever more!
THE LAST UNSENTENCED SINNER.
-'Twas a dread vision!
Methought I stood before the judgment-seat
Expectant stood. On the left, dark demons
Longing to grasp their prey, and mock, and curse,
Another being, ever doomed to share,
Their own unutterable agonies!
There, a bright band, waiting to strike their harps
To hail another saint to endless life.
I heard the irrevocable sentence!
OH SAY NOT THAT MY HEART, &c.
i. .• ..' Oh say not that my heart is cold
To aught that once could warm it—
No more has power to charm it;
One glow of fond emotion
And shared my wild devotion.
Still oft those solemn scenes I view,
In rapt and dreaming sadness;
With fancy's idle gladness;
In nature's features glowing; Again to tread the mountain's height
And taste the soul's o'erflowing.