But whence arose that solemn call?
Yon bloody phantom waves his hand,
And beckons me to deeper gloom--
Rest, troubled form! I come--
Some unknown power my step impels
To horror's secret cells--
"For thee I raise this sable pall,
"It shrouds a ghastly band:
"Stretch'd beneath, thy eye shall trace
"A mangled regal race:
"A thousand suns have roll'd, since light
"Rush'd on their solid night--
"See, o'er that tender frame grim famine hangs,
"And mocks a mother's pangs!
"The last, last drop which warm'd her veins
"That meagre infant drains--
"Then gnaws her fond, sustaining breast--
"Stretch'd on her feeble knees, behold
"Another victim sinks to lasting rest--
"Another, yet her matron arms would fold
"Who strives to reach her matron arms in vain--
"Too weak her wasted form to raise,
"On him she bends her eager gaze;
"She sees the soft imploring eye
"That asks her dear embrace, the cure of pain--
"She sees her child at distance die--
"But now her stedfast heart can bear
"Unmov'd, the pressure of despair--
"When first the winds of winter urge their course
"O'er the pure stream, whose current smoothly glides,
"The heaving river swells its troubled tides;
"But when the bitter blast with keener force,
"O'er the high wave an icy fetter throws,
"The harden'd wave is fix'd in dead repose."--