Along life's weary way of pain and care,
From earliest infancy to eldest age,
Forms, viewless as the soft-breathed summer air,
Attend man's footsteps in his pilgrimage;
And if his destiny be dark or fair,
If Pleasure gilds, or Sorrow blots the page
Whereon is traced his history, still his ear
Will ever catch their warning voices near.
And they--those guardian ones, who, while thy sleep
Hung o'er thee like a curtain, came around
And fanned thee till thy slumber grew more deep,--
Flung o'er thy rest, so perfect and profound,
A dream whose mem'ry thou sbouldst ever keep
Bound to thy spirit, for altho' it wound,
Thy young heart now, perchance, in after years,
'Twill save thee much of toil, and many tears.
It was a dream of life: of boyhood's strong
And soul-consuming yearnings after love!
His eager search to find, amid the throng,
Some heart to give him thought for thought--to move
And mingle with his own, as twines the song
From Beauty's lyre and lips! to know and prove
The dearest joy to care-cursed mortals given,
The one with least of earth, and most of heaven
Of manhood's ceaseless strivings after fame,--
The veriest phantom of all phantasies--
For which he wields the sword, or lights the flame
Whose red glare mocks a nation's agonies,--
Or by his star-outwatching taper, plies
His pen or pencil, to gain--what? a name,
A passing sound--an echo--a mere breath,
Which he, vain fool, dreams mightier than death!
And of a later period, when the soul
Forsakes its high resolves and wild desires,
When stern Ambition can no more control,
And Love has shrouded o'er its smothered fires;
When Expectation ceases to console,
And Hope, the last kind comforter, expires;
And Avarice, monster of the gilded vest,
Creeps in and occupies the vacant breast.
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