To Death Poem by Juan Francisco Manzano

Oh, thou dread scourge and terror of our race,
While thy strong hand bows down the proudest head,
Filling the earth with cries in every place,
And grief and wailing o'er the silent dead.


Hear one poor Christian's humble prayer to thee,
And speak in words that one may hear and live;
I only beg thou wilt not ask of me,
This gift of life, that God was pleased to give,


While passion's spell is on my heart--nor yet
While angry feelings rankle in my breast--
Nor while remembrance ever is beset
With wrongs that men despair to see redressed.


Oh, yet not while I feel this bosom rise,
With tender transports when the partner dear
Of all my cares, with bright and beaming eyes
Smiles in my face--and Eden's joys seem here.


But let it be, when thou dost see me yield,
Give my whole heart and soul to God above.
To him who gave me life, nay more, revealed
The truths of life eternal and of love.