Part 2 — THE PLAGUE IN SUMMER.

Oh golden hours! Elysian day, Adorned with all things bright and gay; Green boughs, and winds, and summer beams, Lovely as Eden’s transient gleams! But ah! the glorious robes ye wear Deride the depths of man’s despair, Since, lurking mid your gladsome rays, The Plague of Ganges stalks and slays. For he from Indian vales has come, Following the circle of the sun; Through Balk, and over Oxus’ stream, Gliding as soundless as a dream, Into the cities of the West, That quail before the giant pest. The stir of life in silence dies, Where’er the mighty vampyre flies; The voice of mirth is hushed and mute; The viol shrill, the festal lute; Alike o’er towns and hamlets brood Silence, and Death, and Solitude; While in the shadow of the pall The busy worms hold carnival!