-
Articles/Ads
Article TO FRIENDSHIP. ← Page 2 of 2 Article MONODY ON THE DEATH OF JOHN HOWARD, ESQ. Page 1 of 3 →
Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software.
To Friendship.
Tho' the time be no more which this bosom has known , When my simple young heart had not tasted of pain ; When health and contentment and peace were my own , And friendship first bade me awaken the strain . Yet shall not oblivion her standard display , But mem ' ry , still ling ' ring , shall think on the past , And pleas'd retrospection shall mark the glad day ,
That gave birth to pure friendship , and thought it would last . , Let the bosom of him whom dull apathy steels In the moment of absen .-e , drink Lethe ' s dark stream ; Let him who the finer emotions ne'er feels , Still laugh at fair friendship , and call it a dream . Why let'it be so , 'tis a dream most divine ,
And long may the vision my senses delude ; May Ihe sleep that produc'd it for ever be mine , And the morn of indiii' ' rente ne'er dare to intrude . Sunderland . J . T . R .
Monody On The Death Of John Howard, Esq.
MONODY ON THE DEATH OF JOHN HOWARD , ESQ .
Spoken by Mrs . O'KEEFE , in the Character of ARABELLA ( a female Captive just set free by the HOWARD of the Drama ) , in Mrs . Inchbald ' s Play of Such Things Are .
WRITTEN BV . 1 . F . STAS'FIELD .
RAIS'D . from despair—snntch'd from the dungeon ' s gloom—And bade the paths of peace and love resume , Should not the sun-shine of my fate inspire The strains of joy—and graduation ' s fire ? Ah ! no—the honour'd hand that freedom gave , Now cold and lifeless , moulders in the grave ; The eye where mercy beam'd in darkness lies ;
Mute are those lips that bade ( he captive rise ! Hark ! from yon somb ' rous caves the mingled sound Of anguish , pealing thro' the vaulted ground ! What new distresses raise the tumult high ? What recent sufferings force the frantic cry ? Can deeper horror swell the captive's woe ? Can sharper misery bit ! his sorrows flow ? Has ruffian pow ' r increns'd the galling chain ?
Has grim disease let loose his wasteful train ? Has famine drain'dihe current of the heart ? Does death insatiate shake his reckless dart ? Alas ! severer pangs their bosoms tear—Fiercer than pain , and dreadful as despair . "For—through the low roof'd cells , thick murmurs pour The sorrowing sound— " guardian is no njore . " H OWARD ' S no mere !"—Disease despairing cries .
" HOWARD ' S no more !"—Captivity replies . Lent , but to guide us thro' these mortal glooms , His mission ' s o ' er—and heaven its saint resumes . Ah ! let fond gratitude her strain renew—Let memory raise his hallow'd form to view—
Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software.
To Friendship.
Tho' the time be no more which this bosom has known , When my simple young heart had not tasted of pain ; When health and contentment and peace were my own , And friendship first bade me awaken the strain . Yet shall not oblivion her standard display , But mem ' ry , still ling ' ring , shall think on the past , And pleas'd retrospection shall mark the glad day ,
That gave birth to pure friendship , and thought it would last . , Let the bosom of him whom dull apathy steels In the moment of absen .-e , drink Lethe ' s dark stream ; Let him who the finer emotions ne'er feels , Still laugh at fair friendship , and call it a dream . Why let'it be so , 'tis a dream most divine ,
And long may the vision my senses delude ; May Ihe sleep that produc'd it for ever be mine , And the morn of indiii' ' rente ne'er dare to intrude . Sunderland . J . T . R .
Monody On The Death Of John Howard, Esq.
MONODY ON THE DEATH OF JOHN HOWARD , ESQ .
Spoken by Mrs . O'KEEFE , in the Character of ARABELLA ( a female Captive just set free by the HOWARD of the Drama ) , in Mrs . Inchbald ' s Play of Such Things Are .
WRITTEN BV . 1 . F . STAS'FIELD .
RAIS'D . from despair—snntch'd from the dungeon ' s gloom—And bade the paths of peace and love resume , Should not the sun-shine of my fate inspire The strains of joy—and graduation ' s fire ? Ah ! no—the honour'd hand that freedom gave , Now cold and lifeless , moulders in the grave ; The eye where mercy beam'd in darkness lies ;
Mute are those lips that bade ( he captive rise ! Hark ! from yon somb ' rous caves the mingled sound Of anguish , pealing thro' the vaulted ground ! What new distresses raise the tumult high ? What recent sufferings force the frantic cry ? Can deeper horror swell the captive's woe ? Can sharper misery bit ! his sorrows flow ? Has ruffian pow ' r increns'd the galling chain ?
Has grim disease let loose his wasteful train ? Has famine drain'dihe current of the heart ? Does death insatiate shake his reckless dart ? Alas ! severer pangs their bosoms tear—Fiercer than pain , and dreadful as despair . "For—through the low roof'd cells , thick murmurs pour The sorrowing sound— " guardian is no njore . " H OWARD ' S no mere !"—Disease despairing cries .
" HOWARD ' S no more !"—Captivity replies . Lent , but to guide us thro' these mortal glooms , His mission ' s o ' er—and heaven its saint resumes . Ah ! let fond gratitude her strain renew—Let memory raise his hallow'd form to view—