"What future is't that graves to us reveal?
What the eternity of thy discourse?
Honored because dark veils its form conceal,
The giant-shadows of the awe we feel,
Viewed in the hollow mirror of remorse!"

"An image false of shapes of living mould,
(Time's very mummy, she!)
Whom only Hope's sweet balm hath power to hold
Within the chambers of the grave so cold,--
Thy fever calls this immortality!"

"For empty hopes,--corruption gives the lie--
Didst thou exchange what thou hadst surely done?
Six thousand years sped death in silence by,--
His corpse from out the grave e'er mounted high,
That mention made of the Requiting One?"

I saw time fly to reach thy distant shore,
I saw fair Nature lie
A shrivelled corpse behind him evermore,--
No dead from out the grave then sought to soar
Yet in that Oath divine still trusted I.

My ev'ry joy to thee I've sacrificed,
I throw me now before thy judgment-throne;
The many's scorn with boldness I've despised,--
Only--thy gifts by me were ever prized,--
I ask my wages now, Requiting One!