Consolations of Solitude ... - John Witt Randall - Bog

Purchase of this book includes free trial access to www.million-books.com where you can read more than a million books for free. This is an OCR edition with typos. Excerpt from book: THE DYING VISION OF BENEDICT ARNOLD. Come, pierce this bosom, welcome death! No enemy thou art; Thou stiflest but the hated breath Of one, whose broken heart No refuge finds but in despair; Abhorred, detested, every where. Where'er I go, men frown on me; I walk like Cain on earth; All shudder when my face they see; Even in the halls of mirth, At sight of me, the voices gay In secret whispers die away. When on some gala day I hear Men cry, God save the king! The very mob, if I come near, Point at the hated thing, Shrink at my vile name's very sound, And empty space straight girds me round. O that in hot pursuit close pressed, I might but make my stand, Bare to the stroke a warrior's breast, And lift a warrior's hand, And, bravely fighting with my foes, Hail the swift shot that brought repose! But no ! I must not feel man's wrath; My fate is more forlorn; Each hastes in horror from my path, Or stares in silent scorn; And if a soldier meet my glance, He turns his back as I advance. If to my thoughts for peace I turn, Still peace and I must part; A hungry, never-dying worm Is gnawing at my heart; And conscience' self proclaims my ban, Forever whispering, Thou'rt the man. When quiet night outspreads her wings, I blush beneath the moon; Refreshing morn no solace brings, Nor the bright blaze of noon. The very sun, as if in wrath, Frowns like a shadow on my path.Scarce do I deem, when I am dead I shall escape despair; If in the grave I make my bed, Can there be peace even there, For one, with whom the good, the just, Deign not to mingle, even in dust ? Were there but hope to die unknown, That when the sexton's hand Placed o'er my grave a nameless stone, I, in the stranger's l...