in their lonely hall doth mournful vigils keep,
And where he sat and where he walk'd his children watch and weep.

Yet o'er his weakness and decay an ancient grandeur falls,
Like the majesty that lingers round some mould'ring palace walls;
The light of calm and noble thoughts is bright within his eye,
And, purged of earthly taint, his soul prepares to mount on high.
Nor is he left alone--a sister faithful to him clung
With woman's heart, with home-born love, with angel look and tongue;
There in that Golgotha she sits, so tender, so benign--
Fair as the moon's sweet glimpses through the cloudy tempest shine.

The court is met, the assize are set: the robes of state look brave,
Yet the proudest and the lordliest there is but a tyrant's slave--
Blood-hirelings they who earn their pay by foul and treach'rous deeds--
For swift and fell the hound must be whom the hunter richly feeds.
What though no act of wrong e'er stain'd the fame of Jervieswoode,
Shall it protect him in those times that he is wise and good?
So wise--so good--so loved of all, though weak and worn with care,
Though death comes fast he is the last whom Antichrist would spare!
For his the bold and freeborn mind, the wisdom of a sage,
The glow of youth still cherish'd in the sober breast of age;
The soul of chivalry is his, and honour pure from stain--
A heart that beats for liberty, and spurns each galling chain,
Whether entwined by hands that bear the crozier or the sword;
For he would see all nations free in Christ who is their Lord.

And once, with England's patriot band, by tyrant power oppress'd,
He had dream'd of free and happy homes in the forests of the west--
To breathe the uncorrupted air, to tread the fresh green sod,
And where the broad Savannah rolls in peace to worship God!
These are his crimes! the treason this for which he now is tried;
But though the forms of law are kept all justice is denied.
Woe! that a land so favour'd once should witness such disgrace!
Shame! that a land so powerful yet should brook a scene so base!

Unroll your parchments black with lies--shut fast your coward doors--
And brand the aged chief with crimes his generous heart abhors:
When truth avails not, well you know how to supply the lack
With secret tales and with wild words extorted by the rack!
There is an hour for every