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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=393318" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Elegy On The Death Of A Young Man</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Mournful groans, as when a tempest lowers,<br> Echo from the dreary house of woe;<br>Death-notes rise from yonder minster's towers!<br> Bearing out a youth, they slowly go;<br>Yes! a youth--unripe yet for the bier,<br> Gathered in the spring-time of his days,<br>Thrilling yet with pulses strong and clear,<br> With the flame that in his bright eye plays--<br>Yes, a son--the idol of his mother,<br> (Oh, her mournful sigh shows that too well!)<br>Yes! my bosom-friend,--alas my brother!--<br> Up! each man the sad procession swell!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Do ye boast, ye pines, so gray and old,<br> Storms to brave, with thunderbolts to sport?<br>And, ye hills, that ye the heavens uphold?<br> And, ye heavens, that ye the suns support!<br>Boasts the graybeard, who on haughty deeds<br> As on billows, seeks perfection's height?<br>Boasts the hero, whom his prowess leads<br> Up to future glory's temple bright!<br>If the gnawing worms the floweret blast,<br> Who can madly think he'll ne'er decay?<br>Who above, below, can hope to last,<br> If the young man's life thus fleets away?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Joyously his days of youth so glad<br>Danced along, in rosy garb beclad,<br> And the world, the world was then so sweet!<br>And how kindly, how enchantingly<br>Smiled the future,--with what golden eye<br> Did life's paradise his moments greet!<br>While the tear his mother's eye escaped,<br>Under him the realm of shadows gaped<br> And the fates his thread began to sever,--<br>Earth and Heaven then vanished from his sight.<br>From the grave-thought shrank he in affright--<br> Sweet the world is to the dying ever!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Dumb and deaf 'tis in that narrow place,<br> Deep the slumbers of the buried one!<br>Brother! Ah, in ever-slackening race<br> All thy hopes their circuit cease to run!<br>Sunbeams oft thy native hill still lave,<br> But their glow thou never more canst feel;<br>O'er its flowers the zephyr's pinions wave,<br> O'er thine ear its murmur ne'er can steal;<br>Love will never tinge thine eye with gold,<br> Never wilt thou embrace thy blooming bride,<br>Not e'en though our tears in torrents rolled--<br> Death must now thine eye forever hide!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yet 'tis well!--for precious is the rest,<br> In that narrow house the sleep is calm;<br>There, with rapture sorrow leaves the breast,--<br> Man's afflictions there no longer harm.<br>Slander now may wildly rave o'er thee,<br> And temptation vomit poison fell,<br>O'er the wrangle on the Pharisee,<br> Murderous bigots banish thee to hell!<br>Rogues beneath apostle-masks may leer,<br> And the bastard child of justice play,<br>As it were with dice, with mankind here,<br> And so on, until the judgment day!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">O'er thee fortune still may juggle on,<br> For her minions blindly look around,--<br>Man now totter on his staggering throne,<br> And in dreary puddles now be found!<br>Blest art thou, within thy narrow cell!<br> To this stir of tragi-comedy,<br>To these fortune-waves that madly swell,<br> To this vain and childish lottery,<br>To this busy crowd effecting naught,<br> To this rest with labor teeming o'er,<br>Brother!--to this heaven with devils--fraught,<br> Now thine eyes have closed forevermore.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Fare thee well, oh, thou to memory dear,<br> By our blessings lulled to slumbers sweet!<br>Sleep on calmly in thy prison drear,--<br> Sleep on calmly till again we meet!<br>Till the loud Almighty trumpet sounds,<br> Echoing through these corpse-encumbered hills,<br>Till God's storm-wind, bursting through the bounds<br> Placed by death, with life those corpses fills--<br>Till, impregnate with Jehovah's blast,<br> Graves bring forth, and at His menace dread,<br>In the smoke of planets melting fast,<br> Once again the tombs give up their dead!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Not in worlds, as dreamed of by the wise,<br> Not in heavens, as sung in poet's song,<br>Not in e'en the people's paradise--<br> Yet we shall o'ertake thee, and ere long.<br>Is that true which cheered the pilgrim's gloom?<br> Is it true that thoughts can yonder be<br>True, that virtue guides us o'er the tomb?<br> That 'tis more than empty phantasy?<br>All these riddles are to thee unveiled!<br> Truth thy soul ecstatic now drinks up,<br>Truth in radiance thousandfold exhaled<br> From the mighty Father's blissful cup.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Dark and silent bearers draw, then, nigh!<br> To the slayer serve the feast the while!<br>Cease, ye mourners, cease your wailing cry!<br> Dust on dust upon the body pile!<br>Where's the man who God to tempt presumes?<br> Where the eye that through the gulf can see?<br>Holy, holy, holy art thou, God of tombs!<br> We, with awful trembling, worship Thee!<br>Dust may back to native dust be ground,<br> From its crumbling house the spirit fly,<br>And the storm its ashes strew around,--<br> But its love, its love shall never die!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Friedrich+Schiller">Friedrich Schiller</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=393318" data-title="Elegy On The Death Of A Young Man de Friedrich Schiller" data-description="Mournful groans, as when a tempest lowers,
 Echo from the dreary house of woe;
Death-notes rise from yonder minster's towers!
 Bearing out a youth, they slowly go;
Yes! a youth--unripe yet for the bier,
 Gathered in the spring-time of his days,
Th..."></div>
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