Hath brought the warfare to a close.
The storm is over; one terrific crash
Now, now he feels it, and he turns away;
His arms are now unfolded, and his hands
Pressed to his face conceal a warrior's tears.
He flings himself upon the springing grass,
And weeps in agony. See, again he rises;
His brow is calm, and all his tears are gone.
The vision now is ended, and he saith:
"Thou storm art hushed for ever. Not again
Shall thy great voice be heard. Unto thy rest
Thou goest, never never to return.
I thank thee, that for one brief hour alone
Thou hast my bitter agonies assuaged;
Another storm may scare the frightened heavens,
And like to me may rise and fill
The elements with terror. I, alas!
Am blotted out as though I had not been,
And am become as though I was not born.
My day is over, and my night is come -
A night which brings no rest, nor quiet dreams,
Nor calm reflections, nor repose from toil,
But pain and sorrow, anguish never ceasing,
With dark uncertainty, despair and pain,
And death's wide gate before me. Fare ye well!
The sky is clear and the world at rest;
Thou storm and I have but too much in common."
THE TWO DEANS
I
Williams, I like thee, amiable divine!
No milk-and-water character is thine.
A lay more lovely should thy worth attend
Than my poor muse, alas! hath power to lend.
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