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Article THE FLOOD OF YEARS. ← Page 2 of 3 →
Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software.
The Flood Of Years.
Bear all before them ! On their foremost edge , And there alone , is Life ; the Present there Tosses and foams and fills the air with roar Of mingled noises . There are they who toil , Aud they who strive , and they who feast ,
and they ^ yko hurry too and fro . The sturdy hind—¦ Woodman and delver with the spade—are there , And busy artisan beside his bench , And pallid student with his written roll .
A moment on the mounting billow seen—The flood sweeps over them and they are gone . There groups of revellers , whose brows are twined With roses , ride the topmost swell awhile ,
And as they raise their flowing cups to touch The clinking brim to brim , are whirled beneath The waves and disappear . I hear the jar Of beaten drums , and thunders that break forth
From canon where the advancing billow sends Up to the sight long files of armfid men , That hurry to the charge through flame and smoke . The torrent bear them underwhelmed
, and hid , Slayer and slain , in heaps of bloody foam Down go the steed and rider ; the plumed chief Sinks with his followers ; the head that
wears The imperial diadem goes clown beside The felon ' s with cropped ear and branded cheek . A funeral train—the torrent sweeps away Bearers and bier and mourners . By the bed Of one who dies men gather sorrowing
, And women weep aloud ; the flood rolls on ; The wail is stifled , and the sobbing group Borne under . Hark to that shrill sudden shout—The cry of an applauding multitude Swayed by some loud-tongued orator who
wields The living mass , as if it were its soul . The waters choak the shout and all is still . Lo , next , a kneeling crowd and one who spreads The hands in prayer ; the engulfing wave o ' er ' takes
And swallows them and him . A sculp tor wields The chisel , and the stricken marble grows To beauty ; at his easel , eager-eyed , A painter stands , and sunshine , at his touch Gathers upon the canvasand life glosvs ;
, A poet as he paces to and fro , Murmurs his sounding lines . Awhile they ride The advancing billow , till its tossing crest Strikes them and flings them under while their tasks
Are yet unfinished . See a mother smile On her young babe that smiles to her again—The torrent wrests it from her arms ; she shrieks .
And weeps , and midst her tears is carried clown . A beam like that of moonlight . turns the spray To glistening pearls ; two lovers , hand in hand , Rise on the billowy swell and fondly look
Into each other ' s eyes . The rushing flood Flings them apart ; the youth goes down ; the maid , With hands out-stretched in vain and streaming eyes , Waits for the next high wave to follow
him . An aged man succeeds ; his bending form Sinks slowly ; mingling with the sullen stream . Gleam the white locks and then are seen
no more . Lo , wider grows the stream ; a sea-like flood . Saps earth ' s walled cities ; massive palaces Crumble before it ; fortresses aud towers Dissolve iu the swift waters ; populous realms
Swept by the torrent , see their ancient tribes Engulfed and lost , their very languages Stifled and never to be uttered more . I pause and turn my eyes and , looking back ,
Where that tumultuous flood has passed , I see The silent Ocean of the Past , a waste Of waters weltering over graves , its shores Strewn with the wreck of fleets , where mast aud hull Drop away piecemeal ; battlemeuted walls
Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software.
The Flood Of Years.
Bear all before them ! On their foremost edge , And there alone , is Life ; the Present there Tosses and foams and fills the air with roar Of mingled noises . There are they who toil , Aud they who strive , and they who feast ,
and they ^ yko hurry too and fro . The sturdy hind—¦ Woodman and delver with the spade—are there , And busy artisan beside his bench , And pallid student with his written roll .
A moment on the mounting billow seen—The flood sweeps over them and they are gone . There groups of revellers , whose brows are twined With roses , ride the topmost swell awhile ,
And as they raise their flowing cups to touch The clinking brim to brim , are whirled beneath The waves and disappear . I hear the jar Of beaten drums , and thunders that break forth
From canon where the advancing billow sends Up to the sight long files of armfid men , That hurry to the charge through flame and smoke . The torrent bear them underwhelmed
, and hid , Slayer and slain , in heaps of bloody foam Down go the steed and rider ; the plumed chief Sinks with his followers ; the head that
wears The imperial diadem goes clown beside The felon ' s with cropped ear and branded cheek . A funeral train—the torrent sweeps away Bearers and bier and mourners . By the bed Of one who dies men gather sorrowing
, And women weep aloud ; the flood rolls on ; The wail is stifled , and the sobbing group Borne under . Hark to that shrill sudden shout—The cry of an applauding multitude Swayed by some loud-tongued orator who
wields The living mass , as if it were its soul . The waters choak the shout and all is still . Lo , next , a kneeling crowd and one who spreads The hands in prayer ; the engulfing wave o ' er ' takes
And swallows them and him . A sculp tor wields The chisel , and the stricken marble grows To beauty ; at his easel , eager-eyed , A painter stands , and sunshine , at his touch Gathers upon the canvasand life glosvs ;
, A poet as he paces to and fro , Murmurs his sounding lines . Awhile they ride The advancing billow , till its tossing crest Strikes them and flings them under while their tasks
Are yet unfinished . See a mother smile On her young babe that smiles to her again—The torrent wrests it from her arms ; she shrieks .
And weeps , and midst her tears is carried clown . A beam like that of moonlight . turns the spray To glistening pearls ; two lovers , hand in hand , Rise on the billowy swell and fondly look
Into each other ' s eyes . The rushing flood Flings them apart ; the youth goes down ; the maid , With hands out-stretched in vain and streaming eyes , Waits for the next high wave to follow
him . An aged man succeeds ; his bending form Sinks slowly ; mingling with the sullen stream . Gleam the white locks and then are seen
no more . Lo , wider grows the stream ; a sea-like flood . Saps earth ' s walled cities ; massive palaces Crumble before it ; fortresses aud towers Dissolve iu the swift waters ; populous realms
Swept by the torrent , see their ancient tribes Engulfed and lost , their very languages Stifled and never to be uttered more . I pause and turn my eyes and , looking back ,
Where that tumultuous flood has passed , I see The silent Ocean of the Past , a waste Of waters weltering over graves , its shores Strewn with the wreck of fleets , where mast aud hull Drop away piecemeal ; battlemeuted walls