With humblest ambitions and homeliest fare, Contented, though toiling, they travel abreast, Till the kind hand of death lifts their burden of care, And they sink, in the faith of their fathers, to rest. Did I beg to be born? Did I seek to exist? Did I bargain for promptings to loftier gains? Did I ask for a brain, with contempt of the fist That could win a reward for its labor and pains? Was it kind--the strong promise that girded my youth? Was it good--the endowment of motive and skill? Was it well to succeed, when success was, in truth, But the saddest of failure? Make answer, who will! Do I rave without reason? Why, look you, I pray! I have won all I sought of the highest and best; But it brings me no guerdon; and hopeless, to-day, I am poorer than when I set out on the quest. Oh! emptiness! Life, what art thou but a lie, Which I greeted and honored with hopefullest trust? Bah! the beautiful apples that tempted my eye Break dead on my tongue into ashes and dust! "A Father who loves all the children of men"? "A future to fill all these bottomless gaps"? But one life has failed: can I fasten again With my faith and my hope to a specious Perhaps! O! man who begot me! O! woman who bore! Why, why did you call me to being and breath? With ruin behind me, and darkness before, I have nothing to long for, or live for, but death! PART IV. CONSUMMATION. A guest was in my house--a guest unbid-- Who stayed without a welcome from his host,-- So loathed and hated, on such errand bent, And armed with such resistless power of ill, I dared not look him in the face. I heard His tireless footsteps in the lonely halls, In the chill hours of night; and, in the day, They climbed the stairs, or loitered through the rooms With lawless freedom. Ever when I turned I caught a glimpse of him. His shadow stalked Between me and the light, and fled before My restless feet, or followed close behind. Whene'er I bent above the couch that held My fading wife, though looking not, I knew That he was bending from the other side, And mocking me. Familiar grown, at last, He came more closely--came and sat with me Through hours of revery; or, as I paced My dimly-lighted room, slipped his lank arm Through mine, and whispered in my shrinking ear Such fearful words as made me sick and cold. He took the vacant station at my board, Sitting where she had sat, and mixed my cup With poisoned waters, saying in low tones That none but I could hear: