XVIII.
WWISE in his day that heathen emperor,To whom, each morrow, came a slave, and cried—“Philip, remember thou must die;” no more.To me such daily voice were misapplied—Disease guests with me; and each cough, or cramp,Or aching, like the Macedonian slave,Is mymemento mori. ’Tis the stampOf God’s true life to be in dying brave.“I fear not death, but dying”[C]—not the longHereafter, sweetened by immortal love;But the quick, terrible last breath—the strongConvulsion. Oh, my Lord of breath above!Grant me a quiet end, in easeful rest—A sweet removal, on my mother’s breast.
WWISE in his day that heathen emperor,To whom, each morrow, came a slave, and cried—“Philip, remember thou must die;” no more.To me such daily voice were misapplied—Disease guests with me; and each cough, or cramp,Or aching, like the Macedonian slave,Is mymemento mori. ’Tis the stampOf God’s true life to be in dying brave.“I fear not death, but dying”[C]—not the longHereafter, sweetened by immortal love;But the quick, terrible last breath—the strongConvulsion. Oh, my Lord of breath above!Grant me a quiet end, in easeful rest—A sweet removal, on my mother’s breast.
WWISE in his day that heathen emperor,To whom, each morrow, came a slave, and cried—“Philip, remember thou must die;” no more.To me such daily voice were misapplied—Disease guests with me; and each cough, or cramp,Or aching, like the Macedonian slave,Is mymemento mori. ’Tis the stampOf God’s true life to be in dying brave.“I fear not death, but dying”[C]—not the longHereafter, sweetened by immortal love;But the quick, terrible last breath—the strongConvulsion. Oh, my Lord of breath above!Grant me a quiet end, in easeful rest—A sweet removal, on my mother’s breast.
W