There is a kingdom-land of gloom,
By ghastly sleepers tenanted;
Beyond the confines of the tomb,
Where flowers of sorrow ever bloom,
Appears this kingdom of the dead.
There Death in phantom splendor reigns,
There Hope's bright beams are never shed,
There sleep these sleepers bound in chains,
Corrupted by Corruption's stains,
Within this kingdom of the dead.
There flickers Death's unearthly light,
In this land whence all hope is fled,
Shining o'er these clay-temples white,
These tenements of soulless night,
Within this kingdom of the dead.
There Death shall ever wave his wand,
Triumphant o'er these sleepers' bed,
Attended by a sleepless band,
Watchers in this enchanted land,
Within this kingdom of the dead.
There through these dimly-lighted halls,
The sound of midnight revels dread,
Unheeded on these sleepers falls,
Unconscious in the monarch's thralls,
Within this kingdom of the dead.
While swiftly flies each passing age,
Death's arrows still are ever sped,
Corruption's wars shall ever rage,
Pollution's seas shall ne'er assuage,
Within this kingdom of the dead.
When the archangel's trump shall sound,
Calling these sleepers from their bed,
The waking of these prisoners bound,
The rising from their sleep profound,
Dissolves this kingdom of the dead.
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