193 

STANZAS 

BY R. BERNAL M.P. 

OH Life!  in thy confused, mysterious dream
   Of bliss, some fleeting visions fondly rise,
Faint as those lights thrown o’er the brawling stream,
   By fading sunbeams and by western skies.

What can thy ever-changing scenes convey,
   But grief, repentance, frequent sighs and tears?
What in thy lengthn’ning course can man survey,
   But disappointment, endless doubts, and fears?

Oh, why are friendships form’d? Can they impart
   A sure contentment, an enduring joy?
Ah no! too soon the mournful words, “We part,”
   The fabric of our promised hopes destroy!

Hard, then, our lot! Alas! congenial minds,
   At friendship’s shrine, will weave the sacred tie.
Doubt, Absence, Death, each in its turn unbinds
   The silken bonds that sway man’s destiny.

Vain mortal, cease! Behold that Heav’n above!
   Where countless saints one boundless Pow’r adore;
There, in the realms of Mercy, Truth, and Love,
   Shall friendship’s votaries meet and part no more!