DEATH SCENE IN THE FOREST.

Otago Witness, Issue 1951, 11 April 1889, Page 29

DEATH SCENE IN THE FOREST.

i Par from human habitation, i Wrapped in deepest solitude, j 1 'Mid the forest's desolatien, j I Stood a whare, old and rude ; j Tenanted by one whose years had j ! Reached this life's allotted span. , » ' Down his withered cheeks the tears sad ) Like a trickling Btreamlet ran, ■ He had drunk in fullest measure j Sensual pleasures— earth'B delight, Sadly moaning heaven's lost treasure, \ Thus he wailed upon the night : ; " Life's moments I've wasted " j And spent them in play, The pleasures I tasted Endured but a day. '* I grasped the dim shadow, The substance was left ; Now lonely and sad, oh I I'm wholly bereft. " Age hoary assails me, Youth's morning has gone ; Eternity hails me, * And bids me come on. ! " The wild winds are sighing Amid the tall trees, The echoes replying, And swelling the breeze. " A spirit is hailing And beck'ning to me, And a voice, 'mid the wailing, Calls out from each tree : " ' Old man, thou art dying ; E'en now from the tomb ' A death tone is orying, , } Prepare for thy doom.'" , j ' A shudder thrilled the old man's frame, i His hands fell by his side, : And from his soul's expiring flame ; The moaning voice replied : i " Thou spirit, oh ! Bpare me, I Oall not yet away ; i Grant time to prepare me— : Another short day." And his agonising moan In the distance died away, While the spirit's jeering tone In mockery seemed to say : " Long years for repentance, Bash mortal were thine ; Prepare for thy sentence, Earth's bubbles reßign." i The hoary head sank on'his breast, I • Death's angel hovered nigh ; And from a heart that knew no rest Kang/nit the.dismal.cry: " Ah ! truly, I've squandered The moments, each ene ; Afar I have wandered, Now meroy is done. j " The grave yawns before me, > I feel its cold breath ; ! A palsy creeps o'er me, 'Tis death! oh, 'tis death t " My vital powers languish, I'm rearing Death's gate, And my soul cries in anguish, ' Too late ! ah, too late ! ' " Bound and round him wildly wheeling, Hoarsely shrieking, night birds flew, Mocking all his tones appealing, Louder still the tempest blew. Death's dark valley stretched before him, Death's cold hand upon him lay, Death's grim shadow settled o'er him, Thu»;his spirit passed away. —John M' Combs. Blue Spur, March 30.

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