Poems (Angier)/The Maniac's Song
THE MANIAC'S SONG.
"I tire of the land, with its gardens and bowers,
Its verdure and beauty, its fruits and its flowers;
The earth seems a tomb where my hopes are all laid—
See Death, the grim sexton, he leans on his spade.
Its verdure and beauty, its fruits and its flowers;
The earth seems a tomb where my hopes are all laid—
See Death, the grim sexton, he leans on his spade.
Haste, bear me away to my home, to the grave,
Make the ocean my bed, my pillow the wave;
Though rudely the tempest above me may sweep,
'Twill serve but to lull me more gently to sleep.
Make the ocean my bed, my pillow the wave;
Though rudely the tempest above me may sweep,
'Twill serve but to lull me more gently to sleep.
A crown for my head will old Neptune prepare,
The mermaids shall make me their tenderest care;
With them will I watch o'er the slumbering dead,
Unheeding the billows that break o'er my head.
The mermaids shall make me their tenderest care;
With them will I watch o'er the slumbering dead,
Unheeding the billows that break o'er my head.
My palace with gems richly studded shall be,
A fitting abode for those nymphs of the sea,
Who waft to my door in their chariots of foam
Poor mortals who ne'er will see kindred or home.
A fitting abode for those nymphs of the sea,
Who waft to my door in their chariots of foam
Poor mortals who ne'er will see kindred or home.
How it dazzles my eyes, that light in the skies—
The sun shines at midnight—I see it arise;
A cloud now comes o'er it, 'tis dark at midday,
Nor sun, moon, or star cheers the wanderer's way.
The sun shines at midnight—I see it arise;
A cloud now comes o'er it, 'tis dark at midday,
Nor sun, moon, or star cheers the wanderer's way.
I'm weary, I'm faint, my brain's in a whirl,
See! a ship is in sight, its sails they unfurl;
Fast, fast it is nearing—it touches the shore,
I'm on board—we are off, to return never more!
See! a ship is in sight, its sails they unfurl;
Fast, fast it is nearing—it touches the shore,
I'm on board—we are off, to return never more!
Old ocean receives us—no fond mother's breast
Ever pillowed more sweetly her infant to rest;
My spirit grows calmer, low murmurs I hear,
The voices of loved ones sound sweet to my ear.
Ever pillowed more sweetly her infant to rest;
My spirit grows calmer, low murmurs I hear,
The voices of loved ones sound sweet to my ear.
They tell of two homes of sunshine and joy,
And one I remember, 'twas mine when a boy;
The other they say, yet to me shall be given,
And the friends I have lost I shall find them in heaven."
And one I remember, 'twas mine when a boy;
The other they say, yet to me shall be given,
And the friends I have lost I shall find them in heaven."
A smile lights up the maniac's face, and see those gushing tears,
Such drops as these, such precious drops, he has not shed for years;
Reason returns, resumes her throne, he is himself again,
And now, with chastened spirit, takes his place with other men.
Such drops as these, such precious drops, he has not shed for years;
Reason returns, resumes her throne, he is himself again,
And now, with chastened spirit, takes his place with other men.
Perhaps thou knowest such a one, for such some- times we see,
Remember lie thy brother is, and like him thou mayest be;
For the human harp that sweetly plays, slight cause may break a string,
And thou some day a maniac's song in close- barred cell may'st sing.
Remember lie thy brother is, and like him thou mayest be;
For the human harp that sweetly plays, slight cause may break a string,
And thou some day a maniac's song in close- barred cell may'st sing.