Classic Poem

What do I hear? the sacred bronze resounds.
What weeping throng is this my couch surrounds?
For whom this mournful chant? this half-lit gloom?
O Death! is this thy voice that meets mine ear
For the last time? Ah! am I then so near
The threshold of the tomb?

Oh, thou! a precious spark of heavenly flame,
Immortal dweller in a mortal frame,
Thy fears subdue; death comes to set thee free!
Take thou thy wings, my soul; cast off thy chains;
Lay down thy load of human griefs and pains:
And is this then to die?

Yea, time has ceased to register my hours.
Ye shining messengers from heaven's towers,
In what bright palace yonder shall we meet?
I seem to float away on waves of light;
And space is broadening on my raptured sight;
Earth sinks beneath my feet.

What sounds are these? just as my soul would rise,
My ears are filled with sobs and mournful sighs.
Why, fellow-exiles, do ye mourn my fate,
When I already quaff oblivion's cup,
And my exalted spirit soaring up
Gains the celestial gate?