POEMS. THE AGES. I. WHEN to the common rest that crowns our days, Called in the noon of life, the good man goes, Or full of years, and ripe in wisdom, lays His silver temples in their last repose; When, o'er the buds of youth, the death-wind blows, And blights the fairest; when our bitter tears We think on what they were, with many fears Lest goodness die with them, and leave the coming years. II. And therefore, to our hearts, the days gone by,When lived the honoured sage whose death we wept, And the soft virtues beamed from many an eye, And beat in many a heart that long has slept, Like spots of earth where angel-feet have stepped- Of times when worth was crowned, and faith was kept, Ere friendship grew a snare, or love waxed coldThose pure and happy times-the golden days of old. III. Peace to the just man's memory,-let it grow His calm benevolent features; let the light Stream on his deeds of love, that shunned the sight Of all but heaven, and in the book of fame, The glorious record of his virtues write, And hold it up to men, and bid them claim A palm like his, and catch from him the hallowed flame. IV. But oh, despair not of their fate who rise To dwell upon the earth when we withdraw! Lo! the same shaft by which the righteous dies, Strikes through the wretch that scoffed at mercy's law, And trode his brethren down, and felt no awe Of Him who will avenge them. Stainless worth, Such as the sternest age of virtue saw, Ripens, meanwhile, till time shall call it forth From the low modest shade, to light and bless the earth. THE AGES. V. Has Nature, in her calm, majestic march The plenty that once swelled beneath his sober eye? VI. Look on this beautiful world, and read the truth VII. Will then the merciful One, who stamped our race O'er earth, and the glad dwellers on her face, Now that our swarming nations far away 199 |