那悠长的哀鸣，忧郁而深沉，低沉，被深沉的情感所压抑，使灵魂在沉思的寂静中沉沦，这与我们痛苦的时代太相称了，我们的生命之旅是丧钟。为一个强大的信条而唱挽歌——它的精神从地球上消失，它的躯体被遗弃:软弱的偶像!在浅薄的心中喂养轻蔑的欢乐;除了对一些无知的异教徒穷人来说，不再是神圣的;有些人知道，过去的世界是怎样靠着它的光而行走和生活的，甚至现在还觉得它比凡人所能提供的任何一盏灯都要明亮;所以紧紧抓住它，满怀渴望的信仰，但它几乎在死亡中熄灭了;当许多赢得财富，权力和荣誉的人在它的神坛上服务，而不是失去他们的世俗权力，宣称他们死去的东西是“生命神圣的”;把自己灵魂的真理，一个民族的信任，奉献给懦弱的欲望。没有人会为伟大的死者哀悼吗，他是天上的火柱和云柱，他带领着一群伟大的圣贤，吟游诗人，圣人，英雄，走过了千禧年的荒漠，我们光荣地回忆起他们的名字?没有人以深沉的灵魂哀悼他，他活着的时候，我们所有的祖先都崇拜他?当上帝让我们走在自己的光里，那茫茫黑夜里的一粒苍白的斑点，难道没有人感到那沉重的黑暗在我们周围窒息吗?——那地上的灯，当太阳和星星，当天上所有的光都消失了，它还在远处发光吗? Our pathway is by deep gulfs cross'd It fathoms none. We lift it high: It casts not one beam on the sky. If He thus died as no more fit To lead the modern marcli of thought, Supreme,-- commanding, guiding it, With noblest love and wisdom fraught; He was at least Divine; and none Of human souls can lead it on. We pine in our dark living tomb, Waiting the God-illumined One Who, only, can disperse the gloom; Completing what the Dead begun, Or farther leading us some space Toward our eternal resting-place. But Israel wanders shepherdless, Or gloom-involved unloving lies, And in despair's stark sinfulness Reviles the promised Paradise It cannot reach -- Father divine! Let us not long thus hopeless pine. Still the deep dirge-notcs long and low Breathe forth strange anguish to recall -- Could we forget -- our direst woe: A proud strong Age fast losing all Earth has of heaven; bereft of faith; And living in Eternal Death. And loudly boastful of such life: Blinded by our material might, Absorbed in frantic worldly strife, Unconscious of the utter Night Whose palpable and monstrous gloom Is gathering for our spirits' tomb. We feel as gods in our own hearts; Seeming to conquer Time and Space; Wealth gorging our imperial marts, Earth pregnant, from the fierce embrace Our matter-lusting spirits press, With unexampled fruitfulness. God, answering well our worldly prayer, Our hearts' chief prayer through all the hours Of selfish joy and sordid care, Comes down to us in golden showers: God turns to Mammon at our cry; Our souls wealth-crushed, dross-stifled lie. Those few, how rich! while this great mass, Myriads with equal greed for gold, Sink in such want and woe, alas! As never can on earth be told: These starve, and those yet wealthier rise- Meanwhile in both the spirit dies. Hear now the thrilling dirge-notes peal The anguished cry in thunder rolls:- The few yet left who think and feel, Who yearn with strenuous soaring souls For more than earth or time can grant; Where, where shall they appease their want? Black disbelief, substantial doubt Wreathe-blent into one louring cloud Through which Heaven's light can scarce shine out- Round all the Faiths: all in such shroud Fade ghostlike to th' entombing Past: Our Heaven is wildly overcast. Yet each Creed, senile, sick, half-dead, With bitter spite and doting rage Reviles all others, Whoso, led By thirst of love to pilgrimage, Seeks now old God-given Wells of Life, Finds drought-dry centres of vain strife; And turns away in blank despair, To scoff or weep as fits his mood. 0 God in Heaven, hear our prayer! We know Thou art, Allwise, Allgood, Yet sink in godless misery: Oh, teach us how to worship Thee! PART II The great Form lies there nerveless still: But as we fix our longing gaze It grows in grandest beauty, till We worship in entranced amaze; Such holy love and wisdom seem To be there rapt in heavenly dream . Oh, if He may once more awake! Oh, if it be not death, but sleep! And He from that dread slumber break Refreshed and strong, full-powered to sweep The darkness from our path again; Once more the Guiding Star of m