MISCELLANEOUS. 67 



Till the loud paean ring through hell's high vault, 



And the remotest spirits of the deep 



Leap from the lake, and join the dreadful song. 



THANATOS. 



a ! who would cherish life, 



And cling unto this heavy clog of clay — 



Love this rude world of strife. 

 Where glooms and tempests cloud the fairest day ! 

 And where, 'neath outward smiles 



Concealed, the snake lies feeding on its prey, 



Where pitfalls lie in every flowery way, 



And syrens lure the wanderer to their v.iles ! 

 Hateful it is to me,* 

 Its riotous railings and revengeful strife ; 



I'm tired with all its screams and brutal shouts 

 Dinning the ear : — away — away with life ! 



And welcome, oh ! thou silent maid. 



Who in some foggy vault art laid, 



Where never daylight's dazzling ray 



Comes to disturb thy dismal sway ; 



And there amid unwholesome damps dost sleep, 



In such forgetful slumbers deep, 



That all thy senses stupified, 



Are to marble petrified. 



Sleepy Death, I welcome theo ! 



Sweet are thy calms to misery. 



Poppies I will ask no more, 



Kor the fatal hellebore ; 



Death is the best, the only cure. 



His are slumbers ever sure. 



Lay me in the Gothic tomb. 



In whose solemn fretted gloom 



1 may lie in mouldering state, 

 With all the grandeur of the great ; 

 Over me, magnificent, 



Carved a stately monument ; 



