The City of the Plague; And Other Poems (Paperback)

This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1816. Excerpt: ... THE CITY OF THE PLAGUE. ACT I. SCENE I. Time, the Afternoon.---Two Naval Officers walking along the banks of the Thames.--They sit down on a stone seat fronting the river. Frankfort. My heart feels heavier every step I take Towards the city. Oh that I could drop Down like a bird upon its nest, at once Into my mother's house. There might my soul Find peace, even 'mid the silent emptiness That told me she had perish'd. Wilmot. All around Appears so bright, so tranquil, and so calm, That happy omens rise on every side, To strengthen and support us in our fears. Frank. Oh Wilmot to my soul a field of graves, ' A church-yard filled with marble monuments. Profoundly hush'd in death's own sanctity, Seems not more alien to the voice of Hope Than that wide wilderness of domes and spires, Hanging o'er the breathless city. Wil. See my friend, How bright the sunshine dances in its joy O'er the still flow of this majestic river. I know not how, but, gazing on that light So beautiful, all images of death Fade from my roused soul, and I believe That our journey here must end in happiness. Frank. Is it the hour of prayer? Wil. The evening service, Methinks, must now be closed. Frank. There comes no sound Of organ-peal or choral symphony From yonder vast cathedral. How it stands Amid the silent houses, with a strange Deep silence of its own I could believe That many a Sabbath had pass'd prayerless on Within its holy solitude. No knee This day, methinks, hath bent before its altar. Wil. It is a solemn pile yet to mine eye There rests above its massive sanctity The clear blue air of peace. Frank. A solemn pile Aye there it stands, like a majestic ruin, Mouldering in a desert; in whose silent heart No sound hath leave to dwell. I knew it once, When music in that chosen...