The Comet - October, 1858.

Erratic Soul of some great Purpose, doomed     To track the wild illimitable space,     Till sure propitiation has been made     For the divine commission unperformed!     What was thy crime?    Ahasuerus' curse     Were not more stern on earth than thine in Heaven!     Art thou the Spirit of some Angel World,     For grave rebellion banished from thy peers,     Compelled to watch the calm, immortal stars,     Circling in rapture the celestial void,     While the avenger follows in thy train     To spur thee on to wretchedness eterne?     Or one of nature's wildest fantasies,     From which she flies in terror so profound,     And with such whirl of torment in her breast,     That mighty earthquakes yearn where'er she treads;     While War makes red its terrible right hand,     And Famine stalks abroad all lean and wan?     To us thou art as exquisitely fair     As the ideal visions of the seer,     Or gentlest fancy that e'er floated down     Imagination's bright, unruffled stream,     Wedding the thought that was too deep for words     To the low breathings of inspird song.     When the stars sang together o'er the birth     Of the poor Babe at Bethlehem, that lay     In the coarse manger at the crowded Inn,     Didst thou, perhaps a bright exalted star,     Refuse to swell the grand, harmonious lay,     Jealous as Herod of the birth divine?     Or when the crown of thorns on Calvary     Pierced the Redeemer's brow, didst thou disdain     To weep, when all the planetary worlds     Were blinded by the fulness of their tears?     E'en to the flaming sun, that hid his face     At the loud cry, "Lama Sabachthani!"     No rest!    No rest! the very damned have that     In the dark councils of remotest Hell,     Where the dread scheme was perfected that sealed     Thy disobedience and accruing doom.     Like Adam's sons, hast thou, too, forfeited     The blest repose that never pillowed Sin?     No! none can tell thy fate, thou wandering Sphinx!     Pale Science, searching by the midnight lamp     Through the vexed mazes of the human brain,     Still fails to read the secret of its soul     As the superb enigma flashes by,     A loosed Prometheus burning with disdain.