44 HENRY KIEKE WHITE*S POEMS. 



Unmoved and heedless, thou dost hear the rush 



Of mighty generations, as they pass 



To the broad gulf of ruin, and dost stamp 



Thy signet on them, and they rise no more. 



Who shall contend with Time — unvanquish'd Time, 



The conqueror of conquerors, and lord 



Of desolation ?—Lo 1 the shadows fly, 



The hours and days, and years, and centuries, 



They fly, they fly, and nations rise and fall. 



The young are old, the old are in their graves. 



Heardst thou that shout ? It rent the vaulted sties ; 



It was the voice of people, — mighty crowds, — 



Again ! 'tis hushed — Time speaks, and all is hush'd ; 



In the vast multitude now reigns alone 



Unruffled solitude. They all are still ; 



All — yea, the whole — the incalculable mass, 



Still as the ground that clasps their cold remains. 



Eear thou aloft thy standard. — Spirit, rear 



Thy flag on high ; and glory in thy strength 



But do thou know, the season yet shall come 



When from its base thine adamantine throne 



Shall tumble ; when thine arm shall cease to strike, 



Thy voice forget its petrifying power ; 



When saints shall shout, and Time shall he no more. 



Yea, He doth come — the mighty Champion comes, 



Whose potent spear shall give thee thy death- wound, 



Shall crush the conqueror of conquerors, 



And desolate stern desolation's lord. 



Lo ! where he cometh ! the Messiah comes ! 



The King ! the Comforter I the Christ ! — He comes 



To burst the bonds of death, and overturn 



The power of Time. — Hark ! the trumpet's blast 



Rings o'er the heavens ! — They rise, the myriads rise — 



Even from their graves they spring, and burst the chains 



Of torpor. — He has ransomed them. * * 



Forgotten generations live again, 



Assume the bodily shapes they own'd of old. 



Beyond the flood : — the righteous of their times 



