For nature’s fearful and mysterious change?
Raim. Ay, father! of my brief remaining task
The least part is to die! And yet the cup
Of life still mantled brightly to my lips,
Crown’d with that sparkling bubble, whose proud name
Is—glory! Oh! my soul, from boyhood’s morn,
Hath nursed such mighty dreams! It was my hope
To leave a name, whose echo from the abyss
Of time should rise, and float upon the winds
Into the far hereafter; there to be