Page 13 - history-related-to-methodism-and-early-settlement-in-florida-(esther-bernice-howell-haworth)-1961
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History Related to Methodism and Early Settlement in Florida (1961) Esther Bernice Howell Haworth




                      His eyes in mute agony close,
                   His sword o’er his age frosted forehead is rear’d
                   Which with scars from his many fought battles is sear’d.
                      Now his Country, nor daughter, he knows.








                      And the tears dimmed his time withered eyes. His daughter was kneeling, and

                   clasping the form,
                      She ne’er touched but with transport, before— His daughter was watching
                   the thundering storm, Whose quick flashing lightnings so madly deform
                      A face beaming sunshine no more.
                   But how did that daughter so gentle and fair, Hear the sentence that doom’d her
                      to die?
                   —For a moment was heard a wild cry of despair, For a moment her bosom
                      heaved high—

                  —It was but a moment—the frenzy was past,
                      She smilingly rushed to his arms?
                  And there, as a flower chilled by the blast,
                  Reclines on an oak while its fury may last,
                      On his bosom she hushed her alarms.

                  Not an eye saw the scene but was moistened with woe,
                      Not a voice could sentence command;
                  Down the soldier’s rough cheek tears of agony flow,
                   While the sobs of the maiden heaved mornful and low, Sad pity wept over the
                      band.

                  But fled was the hope in the fair maiden’s breast,
                  From her fathers fond bosom she rose;
                      Mild virtue appear’d, in her manner, contest, She looked like a saint from
                  realms of the blest. Not a mortal, encircled with woe.

                   She turn’d from the group—and can I declare, The hope and the fortitude
                     given ?
                   As she sunk on her knees, with a soul breathing prayer, That her father might
                  florish, of virtune the care,
                     Till, with glory, he blossom’d in Heav’n:

                  “Oh; comfort him Heaven! when low in the dust,
                  “My limbs are inactivly laid I
                  “Oh: comfort him Heaven! and let him then Trust,
                  “That free and immortal, the souls of the just;
                  “Are in glory and beauty array’d.”

                  The maiden arose. Oh; I cannot pourtray




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