The Tomb of Despair

R EST , inexorable dart!
Spare the agonizing heart!
Why is Nature thus to mourn,
From its hope of mercy torn?
Why must Echo hear the sound,
Which Affliction's note has found!
Bed of Sorrow, tost in pain;
Why solicit her disdain,
Whom thy agonies deplore,
Till Religion 's heard no more?
Give me back into the world,
Though from its enjoyments hurl'd!
She had lost her soul's delight,
Wrapt in Death's o'erwhelming night:
Was her anguish less acute?
Was the tortur'd spirit mute?
Yet she liv'd — and, from its grave,
To the world her tribute gave,
Breathing life into the dust,
In the cherish'd Parent's trust.
Vain rebuke! — insulting theme!
Spectre of the morning's dream!
Not a tear shalt thou defeat;
Not a pain thy arts can cheat:
Where's the mirrour we deplore? —
It 's a light that gleams no more;
All the charm and grace it knew,
From the earth ascending flew;
Here the shadows, lingering yet,
Are of sorrow, and regret.
Hail, Oblivion's opiate breath;
For thy other name — is Death!
It 's to thee , I shall repair —
Tomb of Love , and of Despair!
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