O sudden blast, that through night's silence blackSweep'st past my windows,Coming and going with invisible track—As death or sin does—Why scare me, lying sick, and—save thine own—Hearing no voices?Why mingle with a helpless human moanThy fierce rejoices?Thou shouldst come gently, as good angels comeTo souls departing;Floating among the shadows of the roomWith eyes light-darting:Bringing faint airs of balm, and tones that rouseThoughts of a Far Land;Binding so softly upon aching browsDeath's poppy-garland.O fearful blast, I shudder at thy sound;Like some poor mortalWho hears the Three that mark life's doomèd boundSit at his portal.Thy wings seem laden with sad, shrieking souls,Borne, all unwilling,From earth's known plains, to the unknown gulf that rolls,Evermore filling.Fierce wind! will the Death-Angel come like thee,And swiftly bear me—Whither?—What mysteries may unfold to me?What horrors scare me?Shall I go wandering on through silent space,Lonely—still lonely?Or seek through myriad spirit-ranks one face,And miss that only?Shall I not then drop down from sphere to sphere,Palsied and aimless?Or will my being new so changed appearThat grief dies nameless?Rather, I pray Him who Himself is Love,Out of whose essenceAll pure souls spring, and towards Him tending, moveBack to His presence—His light transfiguring, may not effaceThe soul's earth-features,That the dear human likeness each may trace—Glorified creatures:That we may love each other, only taughtHolier desiring;And seek all wisdom, as on earth we sought,Ever aspiring:That we may do all work we left undoneThrough frail unmeetness;From sphere to sphere together passing onTowards full completeness.Then, strong Azrael, be thy solemn callSoft as spring-breezes,Or like this blast, whose loud fiend-festivalMy heart's pulse freezes—I will not fear thee!—If thou safely keepMy soul, God's giving,And my soul's soul—I, wakening from death's sleep,Shall first knowliving.
O sudden blast, that through night's silence blackSweep'st past my windows,Coming and going with invisible track—As death or sin does—
Why scare me, lying sick, and—save thine own—Hearing no voices?Why mingle with a helpless human moanThy fierce rejoices?
Thou shouldst come gently, as good angels comeTo souls departing;Floating among the shadows of the roomWith eyes light-darting:
Bringing faint airs of balm, and tones that rouseThoughts of a Far Land;Binding so softly upon aching browsDeath's poppy-garland.
O fearful blast, I shudder at thy sound;Like some poor mortalWho hears the Three that mark life's doomèd boundSit at his portal.
Thy wings seem laden with sad, shrieking souls,Borne, all unwilling,From earth's known plains, to the unknown gulf that rolls,Evermore filling.
Fierce wind! will the Death-Angel come like thee,And swiftly bear me—Whither?—What mysteries may unfold to me?What horrors scare me?
Shall I go wandering on through silent space,Lonely—still lonely?Or seek through myriad spirit-ranks one face,And miss that only?
Shall I not then drop down from sphere to sphere,Palsied and aimless?Or will my being new so changed appearThat grief dies nameless?
Rather, I pray Him who Himself is Love,Out of whose essenceAll pure souls spring, and towards Him tending, moveBack to His presence—
His light transfiguring, may not effaceThe soul's earth-features,That the dear human likeness each may trace—Glorified creatures:
That we may love each other, only taughtHolier desiring;And seek all wisdom, as on earth we sought,Ever aspiring:
That we may do all work we left undoneThrough frail unmeetness;From sphere to sphere together passing onTowards full completeness.
Then, strong Azrael, be thy solemn callSoft as spring-breezes,Or like this blast, whose loud fiend-festivalMy heart's pulse freezes—
I will not fear thee!—If thou safely keepMy soul, God's giving,And my soul's soul—I, wakening from death's sleep,Shall first knowliving.
Printed and Published byW.andR. Chambers, High Street, Edinburgh. Also sold byW. S. Orr, Amen Corner, London;D. N. Chambers, 55 West Nile Street, Glasgow; andJ. M'Glashan, 50 Upper Sackville Street, Dublin.—Advertisements for Monthly Parts are requested to be sent toMaxwell & Co., 31 Nicholas Lane, Lombard Street, London, to whom all applications respecting their insertion must be made.