After Death

THE passionate sobs of the dear friends that came
To look their last upon my living frame,
And catch the fainting accents of my breath,
That fluttered in the atmosphere of death,
Were hushed to silence, and the uncertain light,
That flickered o'er the arras to my sight,
Grew paler and more tremulous, as life
Sunk 'neath the power of that unequal strife,
Which pits humanity against the spell
Of one all flesh hath found invincible!
I could not see my foe: but the whole space
Was redolent of pestilence, and grace
Of all things beautiful, and grand and free,
Seemed lost in darkness evermore to me:
I struggled with the invisible arm that wound
So sternly round me, but could give no sound
To the great agony that whelmed my soul
In surges wilder than the eternal roll
Of a world's waters, thundering round the Pole.
Downward, still downward, the relentless hand
Pressed on my being, and the iron wand
Of his malign enchantment struck my heart
With a dull force that made the life-blood start
Forever from its courses; then a sense
Of coming rest, more dreamless and intense
Than ever wrapped mortality in still
And throbless freedom from all thoughts of ill,
Stole o'er the vanquished form and glimmering sight,
Till silence ruled, with nothingness and night!