Portage sentinel. [volume] (Ravenna, Ohio) 1845-1854, 1849-01-03
ns Closing Year.

Tis midnight's holy hour--and silence now
b hroodings like q gentle spirit Ger
Thestill and pulseless world. Hark. on the wind
The bslrs deep tones are swelling; tits the knel
Cf4Asdspafted year. No funeral train
lssweeplng past yet, on the stream and wood,
With melancholy light, the moon heams rest
Likss pale, spotless shroud; the air is stir'd,
N sbysnourner's sigh; and on yon cloud,
fhxt nostss 30 SO still and placidly thro' heaven
The spirits ofthe season seem to stand,
Ysang Spring, bright Summer, Autsmn's sol
emn form,
And Winter with his aged locks, and breathe
In uaournful cadences, that come abroad
Like the far wind harp's wild and touching wall
A melancholy dirge DER the dead year,
Nous from the earth forever. IT'S time
For memory and for tears. Within the deep,
Still chambers of the heart, spectre dim,
Whose tones are like the wizard voice Of time,
Heard from the tomb of ages, points its cold
And solemn finger to the beautiful
And holy visions that have passed away,
And left no shadow of their loyeliness,
On the dead waste of life That spectre lifts
The coffin lid of hope, anijoy, and love,
Are bending mournfully above the pale
Sweet forms that slumber there, scatters dead
flowers
Ger what has passed to nothingness. The yeal
Has gone, and with it many glorious throng
or happy dreams. Its mark is on each brow.
ltwaved its screptre DER the beautiful,
And they are not 1t laid its pallid hand
Upon the strong man, and the naughty form
Il fallen, and the flashing eye is dim.
It trod the hall of revelry, where thropg'd
The best and joyous, and the fearful wall
Ofstricken ones is heard, where first the song
And reckless shout resounded. 1t pass'd DER
The battle plain, where sword and spear and
shield
Flashd in the light of midday and the strength
OF fserrisd hosts is shiver'd, and the grass,
Green from the soil of carnage, waves above
The crush'd andmouldng skeleton
And faded like wreath of mist at eve,
Yet, ere it melted in the viewless air,
II heralded its millions to their home
In the dim land of dreams. Remorseless Time
Fierce spirit of the glass and scythe-what poWel
Can stay him in his silent course, OF melt
His iron heart to pity2 On, still on
He presses forever. 7 he proud bird,
The Condor Of the Andes, that can soar
Through heavens unfathomable depths: or brave
The fury Of the northern hurricane,
And bathe his plumage of the thunders home
Furls his broad wings at nightfall and sinks dow
To rest upon his mountain crag-but Time
Knows not the weight of sleep or weariness,
And nights deep darkness has no chain to bint
His rushing gpinions. Revolutions sweep
Ger the earth, like troubled visions o'er tn
breast
OF dreaming sorrow; cities rise and sink
Like bubbles on the water; fiery isles
Spring, blazing, from the ocean, and go back
Tstheir mysterious cavern; mountains rear
Toheayen their bald and blacken'd cliffs, and boy
Their tall heads to the plain; new empires ris
Gathering the strength ofhoary centuries,
And rush downli like the Alpine avalanche,
Startling the nations and the very stars,
Yon bright and burning blazonry of God,
Glitter awhile in their eternal depths,
And, like the Pleiad, loveliest of their train,
Shsot from their glorious spheres, and pass away
To SPARKLE in the trackles void:-yet Time
Time, the temb-builder, holds the fierce career
Dark, stern. all -pitiless, and pauses not
Amid the mighty wrecks that strew his path,
To sit and muse, like other conquerers,
Upon the fearful ruin he has wrought