Page:Translations from Camoens; and Other Poets.pdf/87



Was it a dream? so sudden and so dread That awful fiat o'er our senses came! So loved, so blest, is that young spirit fled, Whose early grandeur promised years of fame? Oh! when hath life possessed, or death destroyed More lovely hopes, more cloudlessly that smiled? When hath the spoiler left so dark a void? For all is lost—the mother and her child! Our morning-star hath vanished, and the tomb Throws its deep-lengthened shade o'er distant years to come.

Angel of Death! did no presaging sign Announce thy coming, and thy way prepare? No warning voice, no harbinger was thine, Danger and fear seemed past—but thou wert there! Prophetic sounds along the earthquake's path Foretel the hour of nature's awful throes; And the volcano, ere it burst in wrath, Sends forth some herald from its dread repose: But thou, dark Spirit! swift and unforeseen, Cam'st like the lightning's flash, when heaven is all serene.