Death at distance? No: he has been on thee;
And given sure earnest of his final blow.
Those hours that lately smiled, where are they now?
Pallid to thought, and ghastly! drown'd, all drown'd
In that great deep, which nothing disembogues!
And, dying, they bequeath'd thee small renown.
The rest are on the wing: how fleet their flight!
Already has the fatal train took fire;
A moment, and the world's blown up to thee,
The sun is darkness, and the stars are dust.