Like the sullen heavy boom Of a signal gun at sea, When athwart the gathering gloom, Awful rocks are seen to loom Frowning on the lee; Like the muffled kettle-drum, With the measured tread, And the wailing trumpet's hum, Telling that a soldier's dead; Like the deep cathedral bell Tolling forth its doleful knell, Saying, "Now the strife is o'er, Death hath won a victim more"-- So, thou doleful Stethoscope! Thou dost seem to say, "Hope thou on against all hope, Dream thy life away: Little is there now to spend; And that little's near an end. Saddest sign of thy condition is thy bounding wild ambition; Only dying eyes can gaze on so bright a vision. Ere the spring again is here, Low shall be thy head, Vainly shall thy mother dear, Strive her breaking heart to cheer, Vainly strive to hide the tear Oft in silence shed. Pangs and pains are drawing near, To plant with thorns thy bed: Lo! they come, a ghastly troop, Like fierce vultures from afar; Where the bleeding quarry is, There the eagles gathered are! Ague chill, and fever burning, Soon away, but swift returning, In unceasing alternation; Cold and clammy perspiration, Heart with sickening palpitation, Panting, heaving respiration; Aching brow, and wasted limb, Troubled brain, and vision dim, Hollow cough like dooming knell Saying, 'Bid the world farewell!' Parched lips, and quenchless thirst, Every thing as if accurst; Nothing to the senses grateful; All things to the eye grown hateful; Flowers without the least perfume; Gone from every thing its bloom; Music but an idle jangling; Sweetest tongues but weary wrangling; Books, which were most dearly cherished, Come to be, each one, disrelished; Clearest plans grown all confusion; Kindest friends but an intrusion: Weary day, and weary night-- Weary night, and weary day; Would God it were the morning light! Would God the light were pass'd away! And when all is dark and dreary, And thou art all worn and weary, When thy heart is sad and cheerless, And thine eyes are seldom tearless, When thy very soul is weak, Satan shall his victim seek. Day by day he will be by thee, Night by night will hover nigh thee, With accursed wiles will try thee, Soul and spirit seek to buy thee. Faithfully he'll keep his tryst, Tell thee that there is no Christ, No long-suffering gracious Father, But an angry tyrant rather; No benignant Holy Spirit, Nor a heaven to inherit, Only darkness, desolation, Hopelessness of thy salvation, And at best annihilation.