My griefs it seems to join;
The leafless trees my fancy please—
Their fate resembles mine.
Then passing from this low-breathing despondency, we have lyric tragedy shouting down despair in a kind of reckless ecstacy. Bold and brave is this “Song of Death:”
Farewell, thou fair day, thou green earth, and ye skies,
Now gay with the bright setting sun;
Farewell, loves and friendships, ye dear tender ties,
Our race of existence is run.
Thou grim King of Terrors—thou life’s gloomy foe—
Go, frighten the coward and slave;