Читать книгу Selected Poems of Bernard Barton, the 'Quaker Poet' - Christopher Stokes W. - Страница 17

THE CONVICT’S APPEAL [STANZAS 1–15]

The hours fly fast, and soon the beam

Of life’s last day must break;

And soon must be fulfill’d the dream,

From which ’twas joy to wake.

I dreamt just now, when feverish sleep 5

My heavy eye-lids seal’d,

I could not sigh, I could not weep,

My heart was sear’d and steel’d.

I stood, methought, in mute despair,

Upon the scaffold’s height, 10

And mark’d the thousands gather’d there,

To gaze upon the sight.

O pardon, Heav’n! the impious thought,

For impious it must be,

Which in that dreadful hour was brought, 15

Unconsciously to me.

Forgive me, if I wildly pray’d,

The yawning earth might ope,

And swallow those who thus survey’d,

A being ’reft of hope. 20

’Twas frenzied anguish brought that prayer,

To slumbering misery;

Yet sure ’twas cruel to come there,

My wretched death to see.

For there were Fathers, Husbands too, 25

Who wives and daughters had;

And even Mothers came to view,

While mine!—it made me mad!

A suffocating thirst, a swell,

Which seem’d my breath to choak, 30

Came over me:—it broke the spell

Of sleep, and I awoke.

Though momentary the relief,

It seem’d a respite given;

A something to give vent to grief, 35

To weep, and kneel to Heaven.

Now, thanks to God’s most gracious name,

That frenzied hour is past;

Yet still o’erwhelm’d with grief and shame,

I can but dread the last. 40

Must I then meet my death so soon?

Can they who power possess,

To grant of life the glorious boon,

Be deaf to my distress?

From Virtue’s paths though I have swerv’d, 45

And injur’d man, can I,

For bloodless crimes, have e’er deserv’d

That dreadful doom—to die?

Such is, it seems, the Law’s decree,

No mercy can be shown; 50

My life the sacrifice must be,

Though ill it can atone.

To Thee, O God! who, through thy Son,

Hast proffer’d life to all,

Who feel themselves by sin undone, 55

I turn,—before Thee fall;—

And supplicate with streaming eyes,

And heart with anguish rife,

From Thee, that mercy man denies,

From Thee, eternal life. 60