Classic Poem

Yet could not all these Miracles stern Fate avert,
Or make't withold the Dart.
Only she paus'd a while with Wonder strook,
A while she doubted if that Destiny was thine,
And turned o'er again the dreadful Book,
And hop'd she had mistook;
And wish'd she might have cut another Line.
But dire Necessity
Soon cry'd 'twas thee,
And bad her give the fatal Blow.
Strait she obeys, and strait the vital Powers grow
Too weak to grapple with a stronger Foe,
And now the feeble Strife forgo.
Life's sap'd Foundation every Moment sinks,
And every Breath to lesser compass shrinks;
Last panting Gasps grow weaker each Rebound,
Like the faint Tremblings of a dying Sound:
And doubtful Twilight hovers o'er the Light,
Ready to usher in Eternal Night.