The herald., 1893-01-30
OBLIVION.

BY ALBERT KERcHzvAL.
We look around us and behold the doom
OF all things mortaI held in earthly thrall;
Like oceans surges with their thunderous
The waves of human empire rise and fall.
The mighty heroes sleep within their tomb,
They heed us not, in vain we sigh and call,
oblivion ha. h gathered over all,
And the dead Past lies cold meath Times
mould'ring pail.
Like mournful exiles on lone foreign strands.
We gaze oblivion's dark waters Ger;
And ysiniy strain to view the mighty bands
Whose feet shall tread earths highways new
ermore;
The living dreamers-we may count their
But who shall count the myriads gone before?
Lol they are as the vast unnumbered sands
That drift and eddy oer the Red sea lands.
How are the mighty fallen and undonei
Their sun has set as orb at close OF day;
Their dazzling glories perished one by one,
Their paisied hands no more the sceptre
All but their mouldering names have passed
Tyre in her purple, gorgeous Babylon,
And Nineveh, and Carthage.-where are they?
Their eager race OF power ana glory run
Gone, as the morning mists, before the sunl
Imperial Romel Proud mistress of the worldl
Still through thy heart the classic Tiber
Thy eagles srasped their prey with plumes un-
f0rleo,
From every nation, from all climes and
And they in turn have preyed upon thy stores;
The Goths and vandals in their fury hurled
Thy household gods forth from thy tempted
No N ore thy hsughty Cesars sleek and curled.
Shall tread in pride thy gorgeous palace
Tt dogs alone in pity lick thy sores.
Like busy ants we throng the earth's wide
Proudly they rear their tenements of clay,
And guard with jealous care their sacred doors,
Vain little toilersl-we are but as they
Ferocious, petty creatures that do prey
Upon their weaker neighbOr's precious stores;
The whirlwind bursts in fury, wnere are
Gone as the mite, when ocean smites the
Swept as the dust from polished marble ioorsl
And ants are we: The proudest earthly throne
Is but an ant hill. Insects we do stanc,
And we do ever tug and sweat and groan,
And strive to move great heavy grains OF
We rear our temples and our columns grand,
Nor dream of mighty Babels towers o'erthrown,
And gaze with naughty pride: On every
Our lofty monuments of sculptured stone
The earthquake topples them, and they are
gone.
We toll and build, and reck not of the years
Swift circling ever through Times ringing
zones;
And plow the dust and ashes of our peers,
And reap our harvests over dead men bones
We build our cities of the sacred stones
That they have fashioned into eepulchres,
With solemn rites and sorrowing hearts, and
gr0ans,
And raised above their mighty kings and seers,
And consecrated with their sighs and tears.
And what, If in the lapse of countless years,
Amid the wreck Of earths forgotten thrones,
Another race should come with gibes and jeers. |
And dig amongst our mouldering, crumbling
bones,
And they should laugh. and they should take
the stones
That we have piled aloft, mid sighs and tears,
AbNve our dead, with wringing hands, and |
And pull them down with cold, unfeeling
sneers,
And rear their gIlded palaces mid shouts and
cheers?
And thus 1t shall be with us all. The swine
Shall some day spurn us and upturn our dust. |
And we shall dreamless lie and give no sign |
Co d, cold, the fires of love and haze and lust. |
The proud and meek, the wicked and the Just, |
Shall mingle in the chaos of Times deep de-
cline;
The purple grape its rooted hbres thrust
Through our cold clay, and men shall drink
the wine,
And sing and dance and jest beneath the vine