XXXIII.

A VISION OF TIME.

NEW-YEAR'S EVE.

O did you not see him that over the snow Came on with a pace so cautious and slow?--

That measured his step to a pendulum-tick, Arriving in town when the darkness was thick?

In the midst of a vision of mind and heart, A drama above all human art,

I saw him last night, with locks so gray, A long way off, as the light died away.

And I knew him at once, so often before Had he silently, mournfully passed at my door.

He must be cold and weary, I said, Coming so far, with that measured tread.

I will urge him to linger awhile with me Till his withering chill and weariness flee.

A story--who knows?--he may deign to rehearse, And when he is gone I will put it in verse.

I turned to prepare for the coming guest, With curious, troublous thoughts oppressed.

The window I cheered with the taper's glow Which glimmered afar o'er the spectral snow.

My anxious care the hearth-stone knew, And the red flames leaped and beckoned anew.

But chiefly myself, with singular care, Did I for the hoary presence prepare.

Yet with little success, as I paced the room, Did I labor to banish a sense of gloom.

My thoughts were going and coming like bees, With store from the year's wide-stretching leas;

Some laden with honey, some laden with gall, And into my heart they dropped it all!

O miserable heart! at once overrun With the honey and gall thou can'st not shun.

O wretched heart! in sadness I cried, Where is thy trust in the Crucified?

And in wrestling prayer did I labor long That the Mighty One would make me strong.

That prayer was more than a useless breath: It brought to my soul God's saving health.

The hours went by on their drowsy flight, And came the middle watch of the night;

In part unmanned in spite of my care, I beheld my guest in the taper's glare,

A wall of darkness around him thick, As onward he came to a pendulum-tick.

Then quickly I opened wide the door, And bade him pass my threshold o'er,

And linger awhile away from the cold, And repeat some story or ballad old,--

His weary limbs to strengthen with rest, For his course to the ever-receding West.

Through the vacant door in wonder I glanced, And stood--was it long?--as one entranced.

Silence so awful did fill the room, That the tick of the clock was a cannon's boom.

And my heart it sank to its lowest retreat, And in whelming awe did muffle its beat.

For now I beheld, as never before; And heard to forget--ah, nevermore!

For with outstretched hand, with scythe and glass, With naught of a pause did the traveler pass.

And with upturned face he the silence broke, And thus, as he went, he measuredly spoke:

My journey is long, but my limbs are strong; And I stay not for rest, for story, or song.

It is only a dirge, that ever I sing; It is only of death, the tale that I bring;

Of death that is life, as it cometh to pass; Of death that is death, alas! alas!

And these I chant, as I go on my way, As I go on my way forever and aye.

Call not thyself wretched, though bitter and sweet In thy cup at this hour intermingle and meet.

Some cloud with the sunshine must ever appear, And darkness prevails till morning is near.

But who doth remember the gloom and the night, When the sky is aglow with the beautiful light?

O alas! if thou drinkest the bitter alone, Nor heaven nor earth may stifle thy moan!

Thy moan!--and the echo died away-- Thy moan! thy moan forever and aye!

His measured voice I heard no more; But not till I stand on eternity's shore,

And the things of time be forgotten all, Shall I cease that traveler's words to recall.

As onward he moved to a pendulum-tick, The gloom and the darkness around him thick,

I fell on my knees and breathed a prayer; And it rose, I ween, through the midnight air,

To a God who knoweth the wants and all The evil and good of this earthly thrall;

To One who suffered as on this day, And began our sins to purge away:

To Him who hath promised to heed our cry, And a troubled heart to purify.

And I feel that the gall will ever grow less, Till I see His face in righteousness.

And now my soul is filled with cheer For the march of a bright and happy New Year.

As years roll on, whether sun doth shine Or clouds overcast, I will never repine;

For I know, when the race of time is run, I shall enter a realm of Eternal Sun.

* * * * *