Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, ed. Poems of Places: An Anthology in 31 Volumes.
Spain, Portugal, Belgium, and Holland: Vols. XIV–XV. 1876–79. | | | | Spain: Irun | | The Clock | | Théophile Gautier (1811–1872) |
| | Translated by C. F. Bates
“Vulnerant omnes, ultima necat.”
OF great, gray stones is built this structure poor, | |
| No sculptured angels do the eye allure, | |
| Nor rib nor frieze is here to decorate, | |
| But just a clock with wooden dial-plate, | |
| Whose Roman letters, sponged by rain so much, | 5 |
| O’errun a face which undergoes no touch. | |
| The eye, by chance, upon the dial falls; | |
| Like words of flame upon Belshazzar’s walls, | |
| Like the inscription on the door accurst, | |
| This phrase, black-lettered, on the sight will burst,— | 10 |
| Four solemn words, four words of Latin state,— | |
| And all in passing here may read their fate: | |
| “Each hour doth wound us, and the last doth slay!” | |
| Yes, life is truceless warfare day by day, | |
| Unequal warfare with an ambushed foe, | 15 |
| One still untouched by our most skilful blow; | |
| As in a target, in our riddled hearts | |
| Quiver the unseen archer’s hurléd darts. | |
| Condemned we are,—all, all of us must die, | |
| And death begins with life’s beginning sigh. | 20 | | | |
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