Trembles he convulsively; Should he try he could not flee; He's struck, as by a dart!

Bristol locks the door inside, And scans well the room around; His grey eyes are opened wide-- Who's that on the other side?

Too soon the truth he found!

Markham springs now on his feet, While his eyes with pa.s.sion glow; Bristol's these defying meet!

Firm they stand, nor seek retreat; They well each other know!

First the brother silence broke; "Villain! Come you here again?

Who did your light doom revoke?

Died on not from my just stroke Upon the stormy Main?

"You've the impudence to come To the place she occupied!

Your foul presence taints the room Which to her was as a home, Till, by your hands, she died!

"You hardened wretch! Take, quickly take Your polluted soul from here!

Who, for you, Death's fetters brake?

Satan his own child forsake!

He'll have you, never fear!

"Monster! you're not fit to live, Neither yet to die, at all?"

Bristol does no answer give; The torments no one can conceive, Endured by his vile soul!

Again the brother spoke in rage: "Think you to escape your doom?

Other story, I engage To read, ere you quit this stage.

Stern Vengeance now doth loom!

"If there be no other way, Law I'll take in my own hands."

"This you've done"--did Bristol say-- "At the shipwreck yesterday;"

Now Markham shuddering stands.

Said he, "Yes, I did it then, And you are sent back to me; You will ne'er escape again; Trial will be but in vain-- You're doomed to misery!

"Mary, my own sister dear!

When I last time saw your face, Dreamt you not of cause to fear Murderer's hand upon you here, Within this very place!

"No stain was upon your name; Lively, modest girl you were; Would you ne'er had felt love's flame!

Yet you had no cause to shame, But bore good character.

"If I live, your murderer's neck Pays the forfeit of his crime!

Loss of time I will not reck-- Nothing shall my ardor check, Should he seek other clime!"

Speaking thus, he placed his back Firm against the outer door; As he had of voice no lack, Shouted, till his face grew black, And stamped upon the floor!

Presently the neighbors come, While poor Bristol trembling stands.

Now they are within the room, And proceed to seal his doom By binding fast his hands.

Shifts the scene into a Court, Near to suffocation full; Counsel unto lies resort, And the jury loud exhort To make proceedings null.

Bristol's friends had paid them gold, And they do their best to show Black is _white_: as, when of old, Satan, without _fee_, lies told, To work our Parents' woe.

Let them do their very best, There's a witness all must hear!

It is in John Bristol's breast, And it cannot, will not rest, Till all the truth appear!

All his quivering lips observe, While he now attempts to speak.

Conscience cries, "Come, muster nerve.

You must not from duty swerve; You shall proceedings check!"

He speaks; all eyes quickly turn On the wretched culprit's face.

"I my crime most deeply mourn!

Thoughts of it my vitals burn; I dare not hope for grace!"

Verdict found, and sentence pa.s.sed.

In three days condemned to die; Thus he's caught by Law at last; Fetters bind his limbs quite fast.

As he, in cell, doth lie.

Now the Devil steels his heart To refuse religion's aid; "In that _thing_ he'll have no part, It would but increase his smart-- Of death he's not afraid!"

Vainly strive G.o.d's messengers To lead him to Jesus' blood; "There's no need," he still avers, And good victuals much prefers, So asks, again, for food.

'Tis the night before he die; Swiftly speed the hours away; They, like seconds, seem to fly To a Record, kept on high, Against the Judgment Day!

Two--three--four--five! from the clock, Sound like guns fired in distress.

Yet appear to give no shock To that man, with heart of rock, Though full of wretchedness!

Six! More dismal sounds are heard Than the striking of the hour; Workmen's blows loud echoes stirred, Fixing scaffold--we inferred, To rouse him has this power?

Not the least; it scarcely went To the chambers of his brain; Others thought it cried, "Repent, Bristol, ere your life be spent!"

But yet the cry was vain!

Still he hardens his vile heart, And hangs sullenly his head, Seven--eight--nine--ten! Did he start?

No; but fiends from him depart, And he will soon be dead.

Comes the Sheriff to his cell; Puts the cord around his neck; Now his feelings, who can tell?

Still he careth not for h.e.l.l-- But wait the Sheriff's beck.

Slow the dull procession moves To the fatal gallows-tree; There he sees no face he loves, Though the people come in droves His dying throes to see.

Now he hears the warrant read, Bids adieu to all around; Solemn prayer again is made, And the cap's drawn o'er his head; Signal's given; his soul has fled!

The body sinks to th' ground.

"I've followed him unto the end!"

Said a voice among the crowd.

Warning take! Young men, attend!

See the murderer's dreadful end!

It speaks like thunder loud.

THE FAITHFUL PASTOR.