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(Died Dec. 5, 1791)
A REQUIEM!—and for whom? | |
| For beauty in its bloom? | |
| For valor fallen—a broken rose or sword? | |
| A dirge for king or chief, | |
| With pomp of stately grief, | 5 |
| Banner, and torch, and waving plume deplored? | |
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| Not so, it is not so! | |
| That warning voice I know, | |
| From other worlds a strange mysterious tone; | |
| A solemn funeral air | 10 |
| It call’d me to prepare, | |
| And my heart answer’d secretly—my own! | |
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| One more then, one more strain, | |
| In links of joy and pain | |
| Mighty the troubled spirit to enthral! | 15 |
| And let me breathe my dower | |
| Of passion and of power | |
| Full into that deep lay—the last of all! | |
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| The last!—and I must go | |
| From this bright world below, | 20 |
| This realm of sunshine, ringing with sweet sound! | |
| Must leave its festal skies, | |
| With all their melodies, | |
| That ever in my breast glad echoes found! | |
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| Yet have I known it long; | 25 |
| Too restless and too strong | |
| Within this clay hath been the o’ermastering flame; | |
| Swift thoughts, that came and went, | |
| Like torrents o’er me sent, | |
| Have shaken, as a reed, my thrilling frame. | 30 |
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| Like perfumes on the wind, | |
| Which none may stay or bind, | |
| The beautiful comes floating through my soul; | |
| I strive with yearnings vain, | |
| The spirit to detain | 35 |
| Of the deep harmonies that past me roll! | |
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| Therefore disturbing dreams | |
| Trouble the secret streams | |
| And founts of music that o’erflow my breast; | |
| Something far more divine | 40 |
| Than may on earth be mine, | |
| Haunts my worn heart, and will not let me rest. | |
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| Shall I then fear the tone | |
| That breathes from worlds unknown?— | |
| Surely these feverish aspirations there | 45 |
| Shall grasp their full desire, | |
| And this unsettled fire, | |
| Burn calmly, brightly, in immortal air. | |
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| Once more then, one more strain, | |
| To earthly joy and pain | 50 |
| A rich, and deep, and passionate farewell! | |
| I pour each fervent thought | |
| With fear, hope, trembling fraught, | |
| Into the notes that o’er my dust shall swell. | |
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