252 CONSOLATIONS OF SOLITUDE
My life is like a darksome night,
A cave without a vent ; No glimmering streak of cheerful light
Across my track is sent, To dash the gloom through which I stray With a few droos of transient day.
��I will not shed jnmanly tears ;
Yet, like the Wandering Jew, Might I but roam ten thousand years.
And then my life renew, A happy, careless child once more — But no ! The days of hope are o'er.
Peace, soldier, peace ! these transports cool ;
Let men deride thy name ; Thou conquered'st armies — wherefore, fool.
Canst thou not conquer shame .-' Fall at thy post, nor feel regret ; Be thy soul's heaven but to forget.
And, though thine enemies thy head
To carrion crows may give, They do to thee but that, when dead.
They dared not when alive. So the mind sleep, let crows refresh Their hungry stomachs with my flesh.
My senses reel ; a flickering mist Like dusk o'erspreads mine eyes ;
But hark! what steps approach ? Hist, hist ! Armed files around me rise.
Comrades, forgive, and grasp my hand !
What, none ? All mute and shuddering stand
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