550 THE PHANTOM LAND. 



fr " I am a lonely rock, that rises far 



Out in the dreary main, where tempests deal 



Their rude vindictive bolts, as if to sear 



A front that scorns to flinch ; and thunders peel, 



And the blue everlasting surges jar; 



While over head gleams my pernicious star. 



Would I were like the rock that cannot feel ! 



" My years are spent my day is past my sun 



Is sunk in the horizon and my name 



Will no more be remembered but as one 



On which to heap the bitterness of blame, 



No prize in virtue's school my hands have won; 



I lived, alas ! then died, and nought have done 



Towards building me a pillar of true fame. 



tf Like a mysterious comet, riding fast 



Along the top of heaven's cerulean wall, 



A strange unwonted light o'er earth I past, 



With Pestilence before me ; so to call 



Vice, whose sole pleasure is to blight and blast, 



And in one grave both youth and beauty cast, 



Without a coffin and without a pall. 



" The world ran after me with fond acclaim, 



E'en as a child ; but with deceptive art 



I scorned to seem delighted with my fame, 



Till joy at length for ever left my heart : 



I mimicked woe till woe itself became 



A principle entangled in my frame ; 



A coiling snake from which I could not part ; 



" A tooth-envenomed snake, whose sinewy hold 



Sent the blood shivering to its last recess, 



While round my limbs its pliant length it rolled, 



Till to the pitch of agonised distress, 



Lapping inextricable fold on fold, 



And nature struggling, though the heart was cold, 



I sank to earth in utter helplessness ! 



"I feel it crush me now ! O Death ! thy stirig 

 Is balm is comfort is a pleasure's source 

 A sweetness wafted on the summer's wing 

 To the eternal gnawings of remorse ; 

 The dull, slow torture the enduring wring 

 Which to an end not even Time can bring ; 

 No ! nor yet Death from its dominion force ! 



" Men sought to unlock the sanctuary of my heart, 



And pry into its secrets ; and a few 



Thought they saw all, who only saw a part, 



Yet dared presumptuously to boast they knew 



What was not to be known with all their art, 



And tossed their heads, and thought that they were smart ;- 



Men who from me their own existence drew. 



