But he, the favorite and the flower, He, too, was struck, and day by day Oh God! it is a fearful thing To see the human soul take wing 170 In any shape, in any mood: I've seen it rushing forth in blood, I've seen it on the breaking ocean Strive with a swoln convulsive motion, But these were horrors-this was woe He faded, and so calm and meek, 180 An eye of most transparent light, That almost made the dungeon bright, And not a word of murmur-not A groan o'er his untimely lot, A little talk of better days, A little hope my own to raise, For I was sunk in silence-lost 200 In this last loss, of all the most; And then the sighs he would suppress More slowly drawn, grew less and less : I called, for I was wild with fear; I knew 'twas hopeless, but my dread I called, and thought I heard a sound- The accursed breath of dungeon-dew; Between me and the eternal brink, One on the earth, and one beneath 210 My brothers--both had ceased to breathe: 220 I took that hand which lay so still, Alas! my own was full as chill; I had not strength to stir, or strive, A frantic feeling, when we know I know not why I could not die, I had no earthly hope-but faith, 230 IX. What next befell me then and there I had no thought, no feeling-none-- 240 But vacancy absorbing space, And fixedness-without a place; There were no stars-no earth-no time No check-no change-no good-no crime- Which neither was of life nor death; A sea of stagnant idleness, Blind, boundless, mute, and motionless! 250 X. A light broke in upon my brain, It was the carol of a bird; It ceased, and then it came again, 260 |