The Abbeville banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1847-1869, 1859-10-27
ECCI.ESI.A.

| d Hiah asserting II, alter reading that book
is net worth nnswcring.-Ea. S. c. .ldvo-
catel
PARTING INTERVIEW WITH EMMETT.
The evening before his DEATH while the
workmen were busy with the scatfold, a
young lady was uslered into his dungeon.
1t was the gi'l whom he SO fondly loved,
and who had now come to bid him her
eternal farewell. lIe was leaning, in u
melancholy mood against the window-frame
OF his prison, and the heavy clanking of
his irons smote dismalIy on her heart. The
Interview was bitterly affecting, and melted
even the callous soul of the jailcr. AS for
Emmett, he wept and spoke little; but, rs
he pressed his beloved in silence to his 10
som, his countenance betrayed his emo
tons. In low voice, half.chokcd by IN.
gulsh, lie besought her not to forget him :;
he reminded her Of their former happiness,
OF the long past days Of their childhood,
and concluded by requesting her sometimes
to visit the scenes VIII ere their infancy was
SPENT and' though the world might repeat
his name with scorn, to cling to his ,rem-
ory with affection. At this very instant
the evening bell reaIed from the neigh
bouring church. Emmett started at the
sound and rs liz felt that this was the last
time he should ever hear its dismal echoes he
folded his beloved still closer to his heart,
and bent over her sinking form with eyes
streaming with affectin. The turnkey en-
tered at the moment; ashamed Of his weak.
ness he dashed the rising drop from his
eye, and frown again lowered on lis
countenaLcc. The man, meanwhile, an
preached to tear tile lady from his emLra.
ces. Overcome by his feelings, he could
make no resistance; but, as he gloomily
released her from his hold, gave her little
miniature of himself, and, with this part
ing token of attachment, he imprinted the
last kisses af dying man upon her lips.
On gaining the door, she turned round, as
to gaze once more on the object of her
widowed love. lie caught her eye as she
rst'red-it WAS but for moment the dun
geon'door swung back upon its hinges and
rs 1t closed after her, informed him too
surely, that they had met for the last time
on earth.
n 4
Oh! cold is the grave where lie silently sumbcrs.
Where haught but the wild-bird his REQUIEM
| sngs
There sad let the minstrcl-boy breathe the wild
| numbers
Of grief DER the plaintiyc harp's sorroying
strings
Calm, calm is his sleep. and unsullied his glory,
In the shade of the laurels his martyrdom
won,
and long let his namc be emblazcn'd i in story
Green Isle of the ocean! !! thy patriot son.
Oh, sweet be his rest, while in sorrow we wall
him,
And mourn Ger his fato in our tremulous
| songs!
Green Erin oh, soft let thy bards proudly hail
| AS the hero who bled for thy desolate wrongs:
Irvine. twine the sad harp with cypress and
willow,
That shade, with their foliage, his moulderinp
urn,
bedewed with the tear- drops that bathc his cold
Where sleep the lone relics of him whom VIC
mourn.
With naught but the verdure that decks his cold
bosom
And springs through the damp sod that covers
his breast,
or the fragrant perfume Of the wild heather
In the blaze of his glory, oh, there let him
But his spirit has fed to a happier heaven
Where the bright shades Of heroes meet never
to part:
o write not his epitaph-let it be craven,
by Gratitude deep on each patriot heart.
Sweet horp Of my country, let thy sorrowing
numbers ~
Breathe Ger the cold grave Of him whom We
weep. Ne
And hallow with music the spot where he slum- |
bers,
And wake the wild anthem of grief Ger his
sleep
Then calm be his rest,-et him dwell in his rlorv
In the shade Of the laurels his martyrdom
won,
Oh! long shall his name be recorded in story. |
Green Island Of song, as thy patriot son.
Poor Caudle said that be dreamed that
he had an angel by his side, and upon wa
king up found it wss nobody but hi.