One passage of singular and solemn beauty may be translated from the original:-- _Thou'rt dead of dying, and art made divine, Nor fearest now to change or life or will; Scarce without envy can I call this thine.
Fortune and time beyond your temple-sill Dare not advance, by whom is dealt for us A doubtful gladness, and too certain ill.
Cloud is there none to dim you glorious: The hours distinct compel you not to fade: Nor chance nor fate o'er you are tyrannous.
Your splendour with the night sinks not in shade, Nor grows with day, howe'er that sun ride high Which on our mortal hearts life's heat hath rayed.
Thus from thy dying I now learn to die, Dear father mine! In thought I see thy place, Where earth but rarely lets men climb the sky._ _Not, as some deem, is death the worst disgrace For one whose last day brings him to the first, The next eternal throne to God's by grace.
There by God's grace I trust that thou art nursed, And hope to find thee, If but my cold heart High reason draw from earthly slime accursed._.