Page:Poetical Works of John Oldham.djvu/51

Rh These wonders did thy virtue's worth enhance, And sickness to high martyrdom adyance. Yet could not all these miracles stern fate avert, Or make 't without the dart. Only she paused awhile, with wonder strook, Awhile she doubted if that destiny was thine, And turnèd o'er again the dreadful book, And hoped she had mistook; And wished she might have cut another line. But dire necessity Soon cried 'twas thee, And bade her give the fatal blow. Straight she obeys, and straight the vital powers grow Too weak to grapple with a stronger foe, And now the feeble strife forego. Life's sapped foundation every moment sinks, And every breath to lesser compass shrinks; Last panting gasps grow weaker each rebound, Like the feint tremblings of a dying sound: And doubtful twilight hovers o'er the light, Ready to usher in eternal night. Yet here thy courage taught thee to outbrave All the slight horrors of the grave: Pale death's arrest Ne'er shocked thy breast; Nor could it in the dreadfullest figure dressed. That ugly skeleton may guilty spirits daunt, Whom the dire ghosts of crimes departed haunt; Armed with bold innocence thou couldst that mormo dare, And on the barefaced King of Terrors stare, As free from all effects as from the cause of fear.