THE LAST SCENE IN THE TRAGEDY.
The horrid tragedy at last is o’er,
And the notorious poisoner is no more!
Justiee has driven the mnrderer's soul away,
And turned his wretched easket into clay.
Where now his soul?—in Heaven?—or in hell?
My hnmble Muse does not pretend to tell.
But, if that dark infernal pit should be
His prison-house throughout eternity,
His hopeless eries, and howlings of despair
Must drown the wail of common wretches there.
But if, ere from the tenement of clay
His poor misgnided soul was driven away,
The God of Mercy should have seized the brand,
And pluek'd him from the fire with his own hand,
The grateful songs his joyful heart would sing,
Would sound aloud and make Heaven’s arches ring;
Aud purest praises from his ransom’d soul,
Like mighty rivers would for ever roll.
But here the vail of mystery intervenes,
And hides from mortal eye all fntnre scenes.
O fellow-mortal! by this fearfnl case,
Be warned from paths which lead to such disgrace.
⟨Call⟩ on the Lord, and seek to be forgiven,
Through Him who is the only “way” to Heaven.
And, if in glory Pritehard now should be,
⟨May⟩ he be joined, O fellow-man, by thee!
But, if tormented in the plaee of woe,
May thy poor soul to Pritehard never go!
