Poems (Hooper)/The Triumph of Death
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THE TRIUMPH OF DEATH.
When Time and Sin first trod the virgin world
With them I came, a conqueror and king.
Abel first did me homage. Since that day
Earth is a temple for my worshiping.
Each breeze that passes, on its wings doth bear
To me the accents of unheeded prayer.
With them I came, a conqueror and king.
Abel first did me homage. Since that day
Earth is a temple for my worshiping.
Each breeze that passes, on its wings doth bear
To me the accents of unheeded prayer.
Lo! Christ hath conquered me for those who die;
But who shall conquer me for those who live?
What, to the mourners o'er the dear and dead,
Shall hope and peace and sweet contentment give?
When o'er Joy's noontide rolls my rayless night,
What voice shall cry aloud, Let there be light?
But who shall conquer me for those who live?
What, to the mourners o'er the dear and dead,
Shall hope and peace and sweet contentment give?
When o'er Joy's noontide rolls my rayless night,
What voice shall cry aloud, Let there be light?
Thus to the mourner's breaking heart I speak,
Mine are the treasures thou didst deem so fair,
Pray for my coming an thou wilt; I heed
Never the accents of a human prayer.
Do thou implore me, Hear and heed and save!
And I will answer—with an open grave.
Mine are the treasures thou didst deem so fair,
Pray for my coming an thou wilt; I heed
Never the accents of a human prayer.
Do thou implore me, Hear and heed and save!
And I will answer—with an open grave.
And I will take the sweetness from thy life,
Hereafter savorless because of me;
And I will blot the brightness from the skies,
The living lustre from the laughing sea,
And on the morning's gold, the sunset's red,
Will grave one word to darken heaven—dead!
Hereafter savorless because of me;
And I will blot the brightness from the skies,
The living lustre from the laughing sea,
And on the morning's gold, the sunset's red,
Will grave one word to darken heaven—dead!
And thou shalt rise at morn, and only loathe
The glowing footsteps of the golden day;
Thou shalt lie down at night, and sleep no more
Shall come to kiss thy heavy griefs away;
Or mocking dreams shall haunt thee—dreams so fair
That in awakening will lie despair.
The glowing footsteps of the golden day;
Thou shalt lie down at night, and sleep no more
Shall come to kiss thy heavy griefs away;
Or mocking dreams shall haunt thee—dreams so fair
That in awakening will lie despair.
All other 1lls of life thou mayst repair:
Thou mayst win back lost gold, find cures for pain,
And hearts estranged thou mayst lure back to love;
The vanished dreams of youth thou mayst regain,
And e'en the stain of Slander's poison-breath
Thou mayst efface! Not so the seal of Death!
Thou mayst win back lost gold, find cures for pain,
And hearts estranged thou mayst lure back to love;
The vanished dreams of youth thou mayst regain,
And e'en the stain of Slander's poison-breath
Thou mayst efface! Not so the seal of Death!
No prayer from loving lips can stay my stroke;
I heed no summons from Despair or Hate:
I am the one dread certainty of earth,
The awful and inexorable fate.
I trample every joy of Heaven's giving,
And Life itself I make not worth the living.
I heed no summons from Despair or Hate:
I am the one dread certainty of earth,
The awful and inexorable fate.
I trample every joy of Heaven's giving,
And Life itself I make not worth the living.
"O Grave, where is thy victory?" Behold!
Wide lies my battle-field and thickly strown.
"O Death, where is thy sting?" O breaking hearts!
O pallid lips, that make unceasing moan!
Give ye mine answer till I steal your breath;
For Death alone can heal the wounds of Death.
Wide lies my battle-field and thickly strown.
"O Death, where is thy sting?" O breaking hearts!
O pallid lips, that make unceasing moan!
Give ye mine answer till I steal your breath;
For Death alone can heal the wounds of Death.
Where are the homes where I have entered not?
Where is the heart that never felt my sting?
The whole wide world is full of graves and tears;
Life is a weeping slave, and Death is king.
Till in my grasp melt earth and sky and sea,
Mine is the scepter—mine the victory!
Where is the heart that never felt my sting?
The whole wide world is full of graves and tears;
Life is a weeping slave, and Death is king.
Till in my grasp melt earth and sky and sea,
Mine is the scepter—mine the victory!