Johan Ludvig Runeberg's Lyrical Songs, Idylls and Epigrams

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General Books LLC, 2009 - Literary Collections - 112 pages
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This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1878 Excerpt: ...there did grow. Fly, so did God say unto life's Angel then, Hearing punishment to Earth's guilt-covered dale! Not a joy shall bloom for ever there again, Not a being 'scape from evanescence' bale! And God's envoy flew down to the sinful land; At his Lord's behest the scythe swang from its sheath. Saw the son of dust the traces of his hand, And, affrighted, named the luminous angel Death. LIFE AND DEATH. 93 And the mighty Reaper spareth not, his glave Crusheth seedlings slight, and stately oaks doth smite, High and low, and rich and poor, and king and slave, All before his sternness quake, before his might. But out of the victims whom he felleth there, Gathers he, what noble hid in them had lain; Sifts it but from dust's contagion, to transfer All atoned unto its God, its home again. OLD AGE. /N the past art thou thy grief expending, " Grand old man, reserved and silent wending Slow thy way through chill old age's plain? On the hours dost thou regretful ponder, When thou nursed'st each feeling's wealthy wonder, And the youthful, fervid pulse was swelling, Now with blissfulness and now with pain? No delight upon thy road is growing, Love's and honour's standards bravely flowing Far from thy deserted pathway soar; And content's sweet breezes balsam-laden, Goblets' nectar and the rosy maiden, Quicken weaklings, quicken slaves oppressed, Ah, but quicken thine own self no more. OLD AGE. 95 Are thy pains and struggles then redressed By those limbs with Time's deep stamp impressed, This desire, that ne'er its goal attained Can there in thy wasted form be traced Any joy or wealth, which has replaced Gladness, that with spring made its appearance, And, a mere delusion, with it waned? Yes, within thine inmost deep were waked For each yearning, which by Time was s...

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