Page:Ode on the Departing Year - Coleridge (1796).djvu/10

 Hither from the recent Tomb; From the Prison's direr gloom; From Poverty's heart-wasting languish; From Distemper's midnight anguish: Or where his two bright torches blending Love illumines Manhood's maze; Or where o'er cradled Infants bending Hope has fix'd her wishful gaze: Hither, in perplexed dance, Ye, and young-eyed , advance! By Time's wild harp, and by the Hand Whose indefatigable Sweep Forbids its fateful strings to sleep, I bid you haste, a mixt tumultuous band! From every private bower, And each domestic hearth, Haste for one solemn hour; And with a loud and yet a louder voice O'er the sore travail of the common earth Weep and rejoice! Seiz'd in sore travail and portentous birth