From a review in The Literary Gazette, 25th November 1826, page 741 (continued)
Angel of Death. Thou hast seen on earth, as a passer by,
But the outward show of mortality:
Go, let the veil from thine eyes depart;
Search the secrets of every heart;
Look beyond what they seem to be;
Then come and say, are they not ripe for me.
Spirit. I have been over the green earth again;
I have heard the voice of sorrow and pain;
I saw a shining almond-tree fling
Its silver wreath, like a gift, to Spring:
A cold breath came from the northern air;
The leaves were scattered, the boughs were bare.
I saw a ship launched on the sea,—
Queen of the waters she seem'd to be;
An hundred voices benizon gave,
As she cut her path through the frothing wave,
'Twas midnight—she anchored before a town,
Over which the sun had gone lingering down,
As loath to set over what was so fair.
Now the smiling moon rode on the air,
Over towers and turrets, sailing in light,
And gardens, that seem'd to rejoice in night;
When the pealing thunder roll'd on the main,
And the town was awaked by the fairy rain,
And the cry of battle, for blood and flame
Follow'd wherever that war-ship came.
I heard, on the night-wind borne along,
Sweet as before, that gifted song.
But look'd I now on the minstrel's thought—
There many an inward sorrow wrought,
Work of wasting; pining for fame,
Yet loathing the gift of an empty name;
Hope, whose promise was little worth,
And Genius, tainted with cares of earth.
I have watch'd the young, there are thorns with their bloom;
The gay, but their inward heart was gloom;
I have seen the snake steal amid flowers;
Showers that came down on April hours;
And have seen—alas! 'tis but outward show—
The sunshine of yon green earth below:
Glad of rest must the wretched and way-worn be—
Angel of Death, they are ready for thee!"
