Sine Prole

(Mediaeval Latin Sequence-Metre)

Forth from ages thick in mystery,
Through the morn and noon of history,
  To the moment where I stand
Has my line wound: I the last one—
Outcome of each spectral past one
  Of that file, so many-manned!

Nothing in its time-trail marred it:
As one long life I regard it
  Throughout all the years till now,
When it fain—the close seen coming—
After annals past all plumbing—
  Makes to Being its parting bow.

Unlike Jahveh's ancient nation,
Little in their line's cessation
  Moderns see for surge of sighs:
They have been schooled by lengthier vision,
View Life's lottery with misprision,
  And its dice that fling no prize!
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