"
There is the spirit-stirring marching air of the German workmen students
Thou, thou, thou, and thou,
Sir Master, fare thee well.--
Perhaps a half reproachful hint to the poor old England he is leaving. What
a glorious metre! warming one's whole heart into life and energy! If I
could but write in such a metre one true people's song, that should embody
all my sorrow, indignation, hope--fitting last words for a poet of the
people--for they will be my last words--Well--thank God! at least I shall
not be buried in a London churchyard! It may be a foolish fancy--but I have
made them promise to lay me up among the virgin woods, where, if the soul
ever visits the place of its body's rest, I may snatch glimpses of that
natural beauty from which I was barred out in life, and watch the gorgeous
flowers that bloom above my dust, and hear the forest birds sing around the
Poet's grave.
Hark to the grand lilt of the "Good Time Coming!"--Song which has cheered
ten thousand hearts; which has already taken root, that it may live and
grow for ever--fitting melody to soothe my dying ears! Ah! how should there
not be A Good Time Coming?--Hope, and trust, and infinite deliverance!--a
time such as eye hath not seen nor ear heard, nor hath it entered into the
heart of man to conceive!--coming surely, soon or late, to those for whom a
God did not disdain to die!
* * * * *
Our only remaining duty is to give an extract from a letter written by John
Crossthwaite, and dated
"GALVESTON, TEXAS, _October, 1848_.
Pages:
834
835
836
837
838
839
840
841
842
843
844
845
846
847
848
849
850
851
852
853
854
855
856
857
858