Another storm may scare the frightened heavens,
And like to me may rise and fill
The elements with terror. I, alas!
Am blotted out as though I had not been,
And am become as though I was not born.
My day is over, and my night is come -
A night which brings no rest, nor quiet dreams,
Nor calm reflections, nor repose from toil,
But pain and sorrow, anguish never ceasing,
With dark uncertainty, despair and pain,
And death's wide gate before me. Fare ye well!
The sky is clear and the world at rest;
Thou storm and I have but too much in common."



THE TWO DEANS



I

Williams, I like thee, amiable divine!
No milk-and-water character is thine.
A lay more lovely should thy worth attend
Than my poor muse, alas! hath power to lend.
Shall I describe thee as thou late didst sit,
The gater gated and the biter bit,
When impious hands at the dead hour of night
Forbade the way and made the barriers tight?