ON 1848,—EPITAPH.
Last of the Gentile-ridden years, Thy stormy requiem shakes the spheres! From many a tempest-stricken state, Wild notes of discord, scorn, and hate, Peal o'er thy grave, dread Forty-eight ! Herald and harbinger of doom, What shall be written on thy tomb? Perchance, athwart you lurid skies, The torch that lights thy obsequies, Shall meet another, ruddier glow, Where, scathed above and rent below, Down sinks the Babylonian wo! (1) Kings, and your armies, stand aside, See tan's handmaid doff her pride, See Hell receive its harlot bride !— Dread year of ever deepening gloom! Oh where shall History find room To write thy annals on thy tomb!
Or who shall read thy lesson, Lord? Whose valour, trembling at thy word, Shall sheathe the universal sword ?
Within twelve moons' fast fleeting span, Man bath awaked to strive with man, As in the day of Midian ! (2)
Methinks, I hear the rolling car— Pinions that cleave the air afar—
The sound of doves returning home, (3) Lost Israel's doves, no more to roam !
I see the avenging sickle gleam,
Lit by the Dayspring's piercing beam:—
Great Lord! is that, or this, (4) a dream!
Written December 28th, 1848. C. N. Babylonian wo."—See Milton's Sonnet " On the Vaudois." "Day of Mblan."— See Isaiah 9, 4, and 10, 5; Judges 7, 22-25; Ezekiel 38, 2I—&c.
"Doves returning home."—See leaf. GO, 8; Hosea II, I 1 —8LC. "Thie."—The world of business and pleasure, which we look upon today.
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