Classic Poem

Where heaven, bright flashing thro' the deeps
Of this enduring universe,
Gleams brilliant with its massy steeps,
There sits a power to man averse,
Which ever hurls him to and fro,
Bound with its chains where'er he go.

'Tis Destiny, that through our life
To tempt us, drops its golden ball.
When we are anxious in the strife
That should secure for us our all,
Comes Destiny to thwart our aim,
And leave us nothing but a name.

Fell power! at war for aye with man,
Why hauntest thou his game of chance? —
Himself a strange imperfect plan,
His life a bauble. Cast thy glance
And shake thy awful brow again,
Thou can'st not add another pain.