Yes! even I was in Arcadia born,
And, in mine infant ears,
A vow of rapture was by Nature sworn;--
Yes! even I was in Arcadia born,
And yet my short spring gave me only--tears!

Once blooms, and only once, life's youthful May;
For me its bloom hath gone.
The silent God--O brethren, weep to-day--
The silent God hath quenched my torch's ray,
And the vain dream hath flown.

Upon thy darksome bridge, Eternity,
I stand e'en now, dread thought!
Take, then, these joy-credentials back from me!
Unopened I return them now to thee,
Of happiness, alas, know naught!

Before Thy throne my mournful cries I vent,
Thou Judge, concealed from view!
To yonder star a joyous saying went
With judgment's scales to rule us thou art sent,
And call'st thyself Requiter, too!

Here,--say they,--terrors on the bad alight,
And joys to greet the virtuous spring.
The bosom's windings thou'lt expose to sight,
Riddle of Providence wilt solve aright,
And reckon with the suffering!