Original Poetry.

Thames Star, Volume XI, Issue 3470, 7 February 1880, Page 1

Original Poetry.

A VOICE FEOM EGYPT.

There has been a cloud hanging o'er my head, Like the ghastly shroud.for the ghastly dead, Which no power of mine could ever destroy, That the sun might shine,* and without alloy. There'has been a pall hanging o'er my years, That has marred them all; taken hopes for fears, That has robbed my youth of its every zest, Of its blessed truth, aims, and all the rest; That has bridled zeal, that has curbed all

mirth, That has made me feel I could cures "my birth. J By the bed of death can tho laugh be light ? Then in that same breath, say my life 'sbeerr. bright. ' ,

I could bear the sweep of the fiercest blast, And in mad mirth leap, as it thundered past, And my laugh would join in the deafening din, Though the Very heavens were crashing in; I could wage a war with an active foe, ■ Till rbit the dust or had lain him low; I could bare my breast to a venomed world, That its slanderous shafts might be 'gainst it hurled, • And defend my cause for my manhoods* sake, Till the strongest chords of my tongue would break; I could face the fiends from the deepest liell, Though they on me charged with their wildest yell, And sweep through the blood and fire with a

will, Till my life strings snapped and my heart stood still: No unequal foe could bid me swerve, While I owned an arm with a living nerve. But I know not where to begin the strife, With this gloom, that is eating out my life. ■"■■•", But it shall not last, By the Heavens, I swear, I this sombre yoke shall no longer bear; I shall shrive my soul from this dreadful pall, And emerge a man from amongst it all; I shall raise my face to the sable foe, And be dead to all but his overthrow; I shall scorn to skulk to the sileat grave, rWith a stone unturned, that perchance may

save: , _ , I have feund the Will, and though Hell should scowl, I shall find a way, be it fair or foul. Jas. Simpson, Thames.