ΤΟ A HUMAN SKULL, DISCOVERED IN A WASTE AND LONELY FIELD. THOU tenant of unhallowed ground, Lone dweller in a nameless grave, What ages may have circled round, Though thou art now an empty skull, Of what thou sawest and once could tell, What king did Scotia's sceptre sway? Or lived'st thou in that troublous time When faithful hearts were tried by fire, When pure religion was a crime, Which kings pursued with vengeance dire ? Perhaps 'twas thine their wrath to feel, When persecution poured her flood, A witness in the cause, to seal Thou wert, perhaps, a purblind fool, Or some proud tyrant's reckless tool, Hadst thou a selfish heart and cold, A reveller, given to mirth and wine? Were thine the low delights of sense, The venal bliss that gold could buy? Didst thou, the slave of indolence, On lap of sloth supinely lie? Wert thou by poverty oppressed? Of friends and home perhaps bereft; By many scorned, by none caressed, The grave thy only refuge left? Didst thou on others bliss bestow, Hast thou a husband's feelings proved? Did fate thy lingering lamp of life When thy young heart with hope beat high? Oh! mouldering skull, couldst thou relate Perhaps with holy, heavenly love, Thou couldst the glowing heart inspire; Teach it to rise to realms above, A cabinet of worth wert thou? Or toy-shop, filled with fancies vain? Or wert thou still the same as nowAn empty skull-devoid of brain ? But haply, formed in finer mould, In beauty rich, beyond compare ; Unheedful now thy cold dull ear, And deaf to the deceiver's art; Alas! no more 'tis thine to hear The flattering tale that thrilled the heart. I fain would ask, could'st thou reply, Say, wert thou blessed in wedded love? That charm the mother and the wife? Or didst thou pine in beauty's bloom, Or sink untimely in the tomb, The victim of a spoiler's power? Ah me! this lone sequestered spot, By ruthless, villain man betrayed! Whate'er thou wert, thy frame is dust; Has it a place among the just, Who" die in Jesus, and are bless'd?" While thus I mused, methought a sound A death-like stillness reigned around, "What I have been, it boots not thee "Dost thou rejoice in youth and health? "In Pleasure's green and fairy bowers Dost thou with Beauty pass thy hours, "Art thou a philosophic sage, Who, patient o'er the midnight oil, Delight'st to pore on learning's page, And gather intellectual spoil? "Youth, health, and strength will soon be o'er; Pleasure will smile in vain, to save, Not Knowledge, with her treasured lore, Can charm the dull insatiate grave. |