Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1876-01-29
THE JUDGES LAST TUNE.

THE JUDGES LAST TUNE
The Judge took down his nddlo.
And put his feet on the stove.
And heavei a sigh from his middle
That might have been Fat, or love;
He leaned his head on the mantel,
And bent his ear 10 the strings,
And the tender chords awakened
The echoes OF many things.
The Bar had enjoyed the measure.
The Bench and Senate had been
Amused al the simple pleasure,
lie drew from his violin,
But weary OF power and duty,
He had laid them down with q sigh,
Exhausted OF life the beauty,
And he nddled he knew not why.
In the days when love just budded,
And she, in the church yard lain,
Came over his books as he studied,
With an exquisite pang OF pain,
He played 10 his sons their mothers
Old fsyorites ere she wed,
Those tunes, like hundreds OF Others,
Were requiems OF the dead.
They lay IN the kinks enclosure:
All three, In the shadows dim,
In cenotaph's cynosure
That watt for only him.
Who sat with his fiddle tuning
ON the spot where his fame was won.
On the empty world oommuuing,
Without a vile or Son.
And he drew his bow so plaintive
And loud, like a human cry,
That the light OF the shutter darkenei
From somebody passing by.
A .-pung aF, ,,aat,oR as a.. ..,..E..
Great man, SO familiar known,
His features, n inonensIve,
Were like 10 the judges own.
"COme IN, cried the politician.
Come not, ;" his soul would have said,
"Thou brin gest 10 me a vision
or sin ere thy mother wed,
When /, wild boy lrom college,
Her humble desert o'ercame,
And we hid the guilty knowlc ige
Beneath thy fathers name"
The youth delayed no longer,
His sense OF music strong,
Nor knew OF his mothers wronger,
Nor that she had known a wrong;
Deep In the grave the secret
Her husband might never guess.
lie stood before his father
With loyal gentleness.
What tune, fair boy, desirest
My old trends worthy SOM
Say but what he requirest,
And for fathers sake tits done.'
"Oh! Judge, our States defender,
Whose life has all been power,
Play me the tune most tender,
When thou felt thy greatest hOurlv
The old man thought minute,
Irresolutely stirr.i,
As il his hddle's humOr
Changed Xix a mOcking bird:
Then, as his tears came raining
Upon the plaintive chords,
He p aged tie invitation
To the sinner, ofhis Lords.
Come poor and needy sinners,
And weak and sick, aud sore,
The patient Jesus fingers
To draw you through the door"
1t was a tune Remembered
From old revival nights,
In crowded country churches,
Where dimly blew the lights,
And boys grows superstitious
To hear the mourners wall.
The great man, self-des rsd,d,
So sighed his contrite tale
In notes that failed for sobbiug,
To feel Heavens sentence well,
That took away his Isaac
And blessed the Ishmael.
Low in the tomb Of glory
The old mans ashes lie,-
Unuttered this my story,
Unwritten 10 human eye;
And the young man, blessed and blessing
Walks over the shady town,
The evil passions REFRESHING
And bis head bent humbly down.
Perhaps he marvels why treasure
OF the judge ID his credit is set,
And an old revival measure
Should have been the stateman's pet.
But be hears the invitation,
And sees the streaming eyes,
OF the old man lost 10 the nation,
And forgiven beyond the skies.
II A ToUN