Staunton spectator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1849-1896, 1879-01-28
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POET r
From the Richmond Standard

From the Richmond Standard
The following weird and graceful lines,
the maiden, and, as we believe, the sole
essay in the service of the Nine of their
author, Colonel John Lewis Peyton, now
of Staunton, Va, so widely known in
other fields of literature by the produc-
tions of his graphic and finished pen,
were written by him some thirty years
ago under provoking banter made in
the presence of fair friends by a jolly
companion of the authors youthful
days, who charged him with the pos
session of a hopelessly prosaic nature, ut
terly barren ofsentiment and poetic con-
ceit. The immediate stimulant was
wager, which it is needless to add was
awarded the aspiring candidate for Pa
nassian honors.
In our humble estimation the poem
resembles closely in rhythm and style
the productions of SAKE. The imagery
is undoubtedly most happy, and the
moral unexceptionable.
The Diamond Ring.
Twas near the closing of summers day,
The sun was lingering with parting ray;
In hues of fading light he took his leave.
With all the glories OF sunset eve;
When, duslky as the shadows of the night.
A horseman, in his clanking armor bright
Rode to ancient Abbey of st. Pierre
Twas said much treasure had been buried there.
3
Through solemn aisles, with slow and cautious
tread,
He eager sought the treasures of the dead;
And as he moved with silent step to trace
The dark recesses of that hallowed place,
He saw a human skull beneath his feet
A shattered throne, proud reasons vacant seat
He quickly paused to lift it from the ground,
And musing as he turned it round and round:
'sThou must have been what fallen men call
great,
To have been buried in this church of State:
But whether good or bad, fool or wise,
An honest man, or demon in disguise,
No one beyond the limits of this cell,
| Of all thy fellow-m men, can truly tell"
He sought among the dead for jewels rare,
| And long he sought-not finding any there.
At last, in snowy shroud. maiden fair
| He saw, with pallid face and glossy hair;
And round the virgins calm. unclouded brow,
He saw the garland fiowrets faded now.
"ThOu beauteous maid" he thought, "hadst
thou not died,
would have woed thee for my cherished
BRIDE"
Then on her hand, a tiny taper thing.
| He saw brilliant gem-a diamond ring.
He siezed the prize, and hurried from the spot
Oercome with joy at this happy lot.
Oace poor, now .ch but filed with silent dread
He placed the costly gem beneath his head.
To sleep he essayed, but twas all in vain;
For startling fears. and gloomy, anxious pain
Disturbed his visions with their varied train
| OF CHASTITY forms, to rack his tortured brain,
Until he dreamed. on this unhappy night.
A robber seized the ring and took to flight.
He started wildly in this troubled scene
To get the "Gem of purest ray serene"
Twas safe; and while he gazed upon the bau
| BILE
Tn wretched source OF all his nightmare trou-
BILE
He vow'd hat ere the sun again should dawn
| Upon that same fair hand it should be drawn
|
| borne,
The guilty knight now buried to St. Pierre.
But not with the resolve he formed in fear;
For cursed avaice filed him with degire,
And stepped his senses in her raging fro.
| Forgetful of his vow, the arrant knave
Resolves again to rob the silent grave.
He moved toward the chambers of the dead,
Regardless wholly OF his former dread.
But hist! he hears a softly tender moan!
Perhaps the wind between the blocks of stone
| All. no! he felt no breath come er his cheek
Then what did that unbiddsn sound hespeak ?
| He turned around and saw q startling sight;
There stood the maid in youthful beauty bright
He turn'd to fly to leave the haliowed spot;
But no! to leave the place she bade him not
She laid her incey hand upon his arm.
1t chilled his blood, ssfroze him with alarm.
"Unhappy youth" in hollow tones she Grid,
| ITO wealth thou'rt wedded! 'Tis thy choser
| bride!
Thou'st gained the dearest object of thy heart
But thou and thy lov'd bride mustquickly part
| In feeting shadows thou hast sought to win
Enduring happiness while stepped in sin.
IT'S now too late to mend thy erring ways
For now is filled the measure of thy days."
| And thsn she siezed and bore him through tn,
| gloom,
Beyond the portals OF the silent tomb.
J.. L. P,