Apology for Death
Whence this reluctance, when we cease to run
Life's slow, sad race, and leave its toys un-won?
Death's but our Tide of Ebb , to that dark sea,
Time's shoreless swallower, void eternity!
'Tis rest, from labour — 'tis escape from care;
'Tis shunn'd oppression, and reliev'd despair.
'Tis but to re-dissolve, to formless flow,
And join the mingled mass, that feels no woe.
Fluid, to fade, as all things, round us, do,
Or, from old being , launch, to find out new .
Emerging, or immerg'd, life rolls away,
Foams, into note, or flattens to decay.
Round, with unceasing wheel , distinction glides,
And, thro' time's maze , in short successions, slides:
Flames its hot hour, like humbler houshold fires,
Shines, but to leave us, and, in use , expires.
'Tis the flash'd spark of thought, that bursts to sight,
Strains soon, and big, and rushes into night:
So the proud storm, that frights us, with its roar,
Breathes itself weary, and is heard no more.
See! that soft flow'r , whose sighs perfume the gales,
Blooms into dust, and its snuff'd life exhales!
All nature heaves , and sets , like human breath,
And life's loose links but stretch the chain of death.
Why, then, does erring fancy fright the mind?
Why call that cruel , nature meant for kind?
Who knows, but fates , we tremble at, may bless ,
And length of happiest life be found distress?
Murder! that blast of thought! that bane of law!
The good man's horror , and ev'n villain's awe!
Murder! that nature dreads, and conscience flies!
Perhaps, but spurs us, to some waiting prize!
Else, why should creature , still, with creature, jarr?
And clash'd existence wage eternal war?
Beast bleeds, by beast ; fishes , on fishes , prey,
And birds act murder, with more waste, than they ;
Ev'n the sweet thrush , that bribes us, with her song,
To guard her dread of death, from beaks, more strong,
Sav'd, from the kite , strait bloodier grows, than he ,
And snaps the shiv'ring insect , from the tree.
Life starts but up, to answer death's due call,
And one mysterious darkness wraps us all!
Life's slow, sad race, and leave its toys un-won?
Death's but our Tide of Ebb , to that dark sea,
Time's shoreless swallower, void eternity!
'Tis rest, from labour — 'tis escape from care;
'Tis shunn'd oppression, and reliev'd despair.
'Tis but to re-dissolve, to formless flow,
And join the mingled mass, that feels no woe.
Fluid, to fade, as all things, round us, do,
Or, from old being , launch, to find out new .
Emerging, or immerg'd, life rolls away,
Foams, into note, or flattens to decay.
Round, with unceasing wheel , distinction glides,
And, thro' time's maze , in short successions, slides:
Flames its hot hour, like humbler houshold fires,
Shines, but to leave us, and, in use , expires.
'Tis the flash'd spark of thought, that bursts to sight,
Strains soon, and big, and rushes into night:
So the proud storm, that frights us, with its roar,
Breathes itself weary, and is heard no more.
See! that soft flow'r , whose sighs perfume the gales,
Blooms into dust, and its snuff'd life exhales!
All nature heaves , and sets , like human breath,
And life's loose links but stretch the chain of death.
Why, then, does erring fancy fright the mind?
Why call that cruel , nature meant for kind?
Who knows, but fates , we tremble at, may bless ,
And length of happiest life be found distress?
Murder! that blast of thought! that bane of law!
The good man's horror , and ev'n villain's awe!
Murder! that nature dreads, and conscience flies!
Perhaps, but spurs us, to some waiting prize!
Else, why should creature , still, with creature, jarr?
And clash'd existence wage eternal war?
Beast bleeds, by beast ; fishes , on fishes , prey,
And birds act murder, with more waste, than they ;
Ev'n the sweet thrush , that bribes us, with her song,
To guard her dread of death, from beaks, more strong,
Sav'd, from the kite , strait bloodier grows, than he ,
And snaps the shiv'ring insect , from the tree.
Life starts but up, to answer death's due call,
And one mysterious darkness wraps us all!
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