Page:The Poets and Poetry of the West.djvu/115

 1830-40.] OTWAY CURRY 99 Oft whispering as they pass a long fare- well To the frail emblems of the waning year, The drooping foliage, and the dying leaves. This is the time for care ; to break the spell Of ever-fading fancy ; to contrast The evanescent beams of earthly bliss With the long, dread array of deepening ill. The ills of life are twofold : those which faU With lead-like weight upon the mortal clay. Are transient in their kind; for the frail dust Ere long shall blend with the innumerous sands, And atoms of the boundless universe, Absorbed in the unfelt, unconscious rest Of hfeless, soulless matter, without change. Save when the far-off period shall arrive Of shadowy nothingness. The deadlier ills That tinge existence with unbroken gloom, Are lost to melioration, for they hold The ever-during spirit in their grasp, And in their kind a withering permanence. To linger in unrest — to be endowed With high aspiring, endless, limitless ! On thought's unshackled pinions to outride The air-borne eagles of the Apennines ; To pierce the surging depths of endless space ; To revel in the stalwart fervidness Of its careering storms ! to sweep sublime Through the far regions of immensity, Then fall astounded from the dreaming height. And wake in wildering durance : these are things That well may dim the sleepless eyes of care. And thou, too, Friendship, pilgrim-child of heaven ! The balm that brings the spirit sweet relief From the keen stings of sorrow and de- spair, 'Tis thine to give ; yet the deep quietude Of the bereaving tomb hath shrouded oft The morning-prime of beings formed for thee. THE ETERNAL RIVER. Beyond the silence, beyond the gloom Of the vale of death and the dreary tomb, Beyond the sorrow, beyond the sin Of earthly ages, its waves begin. Along the slope of its margin bright. The groves rise up in a land of light, And the shining flowers of the crystal rills Come leaping down from the jasper hills. And all the millions who take their birth, In the dark old climes of the ancient earth, When the strife and grief and pain of the past Are all forgotten, will glide at last, Ay, crowned with glory and gladness, glide Along the sweep of that radiant tide ; While all before them and aU around Shall the ceaseless song of the seraph sound : Amidst the murmuring fountains Of everlasting life, Thy spirit, like a bounding bark, With song and gladness rife, Goes gliding to the palmy shore That lies in sunny light before. Glide on, glide on, rejoicing — The glories of that strand Are tinted by the golden morn Of an immortal land, Whose lingering hope and pearly ray Shall never fade nor fleet away. The silvery tide will bear thee Amid the sound and bloom Of many a green and blessed isle, Whose shinin'T banks illume