STANZAS.

QuÆ nunc abibis in loca.

1.

When first the soul’s dark chains unbind,

And bursts from clay the prison’d mind,

What thoughts—what visions on it press,

Floating through ether—bodiless,

And borne away in calmest air,

Or falling, falling to despair,

What are its thoughts to find it there!

2.

Oh, when the struggling gasp is o’er,

And Earth hath naught to charm it more,

And it is free, and fixt its fate,

Flitting through space—all desolate,

With none its wilderment to share,

In silence borne—it knows not where,

What are its thoughts to find it there!

3.

Oh rising, when it first doth hear

Heaven’s far-off music drawing near,

And gazeth now on heavenly light,

That brighter grows, and still more bright;

Oh, when it gains that purer air,

And first beholds those regions fair,

What are its thoughts to find it there!

4.

Or sinking, sinking, when more near

Deep groans assail its spirit ear,

And Earth is gone—its little day

Pass’d as a slighted dream away;

When round it frowns at length the glare,

The glimmering darkness of despair,

What are its thoughts to find it there!