To Death

Death! where is thy victory?To triumph whilst I die,To triumph whilst thine ebon wingEnfolds my shuddering soul?O Death! where is thy sting?5Not when the tides of murder roll,When nations groan, that kings may bask in bliss,Death! canst thou boast a victory such as this--When in his hour of pomp and powerHis blow the mightiest murderer gave,10Mid Nature's cries the sacrificeOf millions to glut the grave;When sunk the Tyrant Desolation's slave;Or Freedom's life-blood streamed upon thy shrine;Stern Tyrant, couldst thou boast a victory such as mine?15

To know in dissolution's voidThat mortals' baubles sunk decay;That everything, but Love, destroyedMust perish with its kindred clay,--Perish Ambition's crown,20Perish her sceptred sway:From Death's pale front fades Pride's fastidious frown.In Death's damp vault the lurid fires decay,That Envy lights at heaven-born Virtue's beam--That all the cares subside,25Which lurk beneath the tideOf life's unquiet stream;--Yes! this is victory!And on yon rock, whose dark form glooms the sky,To stretch these pale limbs, when the soul is fled;30To baffle the lean passions of their prey,To sleep within the palace of the dead!Oh! not the King, around whose dazzling throneHis countless courtiers mock the words they say,Triumphs amid the bud of glory blown,35As I in this cold bed, and faint expiring groan!

Tremble, ye proud, whose grandeur mocks the woeWhich props the column of unnatural state!You the plainings, faint and low,From Misery's tortured soul that flow,40Shall usher to your fate.

Tremble, ye conquerors, at whose fell commandThe war-fiend riots o'er a peaceful land!You Desolation's gory throngShall bear from Victory along45To that mysterious strand.