The Grave, the Grave

BLEST are the Dormant
In Death! They repose
From Bondage and Torment,

From Passions and Woes,
From the yoke of the world and the snares of the traitor,
The Grave, the Grave, is the true Liberator!

Griefs chase one another
Around the Earth's dome:
In the arras of the Mother

Alone is our home.
Woo Pleasure, ye triflers! The Thoughtful are wiser;
The Grave, the Grave, is their one Tranquilliser!

Is the Good man unfriended
On Life's ocean-path,
Where storms have expended

Their turhulent wrath?
Are his labours requited by Slander and Eancor?
The Grave, the Grave is his sure bower-anchor!

To gaze on the faces
Of Lost ones anew, —
To lock in embraces

The Loved and the True,
Were a rapture to make even Paradise brighter;
The Grave, the Grave is the great Keuniter!

Crown the corpse then with laurels,
The conqueror's wreath,
Make joyous with carols

The Chamber of Death,
And welcome the Victor with cymbal and psalter;
The Grave, the Grave is the only Exalter!