Ashtabula weekly telegraph. [volume] (Ashtabula, Ohio) 1853-1873, 1864-03-05

dod grant, the God who secret hearts doth
search,
The guilty soul e'er judgment may repent.
Thauk God that but single pang the sufferer
feels
With one sharp pain the agony is paat
Then heaven sent stupor every torture heals,
And death may come untelt, or slow or fast.
Curse, curse ye then the priestly rule that gave
To helsh fire and to sn early grave
Without attempt TO succor or TO save
That innocence, vile supperstitons slave.
Rise from your lethargy the fathers, Sous,
Swear by your wives and mothers dying groans,
To hurl that powerful priest craft from their
thrones,
Who glory, that Chill saints and martyrs owns.
Charge it to him who for vauuting boast,
Your hearts beloved ones to your hearts hath
lost
Torn from your loving breast, to torture toss.
ed,
The boast was kept at what fearful cost
Erase the pile, aud level to the grouud
Those walls on which high heaven thrice has
frowuedi
And here, where they funeral pyre have found
To their sad memory rear fit sepuchral
mound
Sleep on! Rest, qnet as thy conscience, take /
For though thou sleep thyselI thy Gods awake.
Above the subtle fodugs Of the sky,
Above the well set orb'5 soft harm ony;
Above those pretty lamps that gild the night,
I here is a place o'eaown with kalloed light,
Where Heaven, as if it let itself behind,
Is stretched out far, nor its own bounds eau
fud.
There peaceful flames swell up the sacred place
Nor can th glory contain itself 10 this endless
space,
For there no twilight OF the suns dull ray,
G mers upon the pure and native day,
No paIe-f~ced moon does 10 stolen beams ap-
pear,
Or with dim tapers scatter darkness there.
Ou no smooth sphere the restless seasons glide,
No circling motion doth swift time divide;
Nothing is there to come, aud nothing past,
But au eternal mop doth always last.
Beneath the silent chambers of the earth,
Where the suns fruitful beams gave IN ortals
birth,
Where lie the growth of fatal gold does see,
GJld which above more influence has than He;
Beneath the dews we're unh h,dged tempests lie,
And infant winds their tender voices try;
Beneath the mighty ocean's wealthy caves;
Beneath the eterual fountain of the waves:
Where their vast court the mother waters keep
Aud undisturbed by moons in silence sleep,
There is place, deep, wondrous deep below,
Which genuine highs and horror does DER fow
No bound controls the quwearied space bu
Hell,
Endless as those dire pains that in it dwell
Here no dear glimpse Of the suns lovely face
Strikes through the solid darkness of the place
No dawning morn does her kindred display;
One slight weak beam would here be though
the day;
No gentle stars with their fair gems of light,
Offend the tyrannous and u1questioned night.
Here Luciier, the mighty captive, reigns,
Proud midst his woes and tyrant in his chains
Once general of gilded host of sprtes,
Like Hesper leading forth the spangled knights
But down like lightning which him struck b.
came,
And ward at his first plunge into the fame.
Myriads of spirits fell wounded round him ther,
With dropping lights thick shope the singe'
air.
4 dreadful silence fills this hollow place,
Doubling the native terror OF Hell's facej
Rivers Of flaming birthstone, which before
So loudly ragged creep softly by the shore;
No hiss of snakes, no clank of chains is known
The souls amidst their tortures durst not groat
These are the places WHITTIER men resort,
Who actors here on earth have played thei
part
And with themselves alone the pathway lies,
The road which leads to hell, or to the skies;
Both clear before their open eyes are placed.
Some choose the FIRST, and soue prefer the las
Choose then, aud let your choice be quick
made,
For, by delaying 10 your choice, you tread
Already Oh the downward road to hell,
And if you back may come, mortal cannot tel
Men, Men! Ye know not when your en-,
draws near,
Next year or cen tomorrow it may be here.
Prepare yourselves, your lamps bright burnin
have,
And always watching, you need not fear th
grave.
Death is gulf no man can cross again,
Once DER just as be went he must remain
Until the angel trumpets loudly sound.
Aud call the dead from air, from sea, an
ground.
LORD MELVILLE AND HIS PET RAM :
Lord Melville, of Scotland, had large pc
..-.Ll.l - ~ D. - nod 81 T.