I have seen death when on the old,
Its image pressed so grim and cold,
That from the lifeless clay I fled,
Chilled by the darkness of the dead:
I’ve seen death on the infant lia
So sweet it seemed a bliss to die;
The smiling lip—the placid brow
Seemed fail’d by some bright seruph’s
wing
And o’er the face, a brighter glow,
Than aught of earthly joy can bring—
They drew her from her watery bed,
And on the flowery banks was laid
The lifeless form of young Estelle!
Hushed was the bosom’s fitful swell—
The wasted limbs were cold in death—
The parted lips gave forth no breath—
But round those lips a sweet smile played,
As though in gentle sleep she laid;
A smile which told that reason’s light
Broke in upon the awful night,
That wrapped her soul in darkest gloom
And led her to an early tomb;
Thus she awoke to consciousness,
In that lone hour of deep distress,
But to pronounce with her last breath
The name of Charles—then slept in death.
They laid her in a lonely grave,
Where rolls the dark Mahoning's wave,§
Whose waters in their ceaseless flow,
Sing her a requiem, sail and low;
Bedewing as they onward swell,
The resting place of dead Estelle!
•This narrative is founded upon an event that
really transpired some twelve years ago in Ohio.
The names of the parties, are not of course here
used.
tThe place where Estelle threw herself into
the river is wild beyond description; just such a
place us a maniac would, it seems te me, natural
ly select for the commission of suicide.
