Here, where the lonely hooting
Sends forth his midnight moans,
Fierce wolves shall o’er my carcase growl,
Or buzzards pick my bones.
No fellow-man shall learn my fate,
Or where my ashes lie;
Unless by beasts drawn round their bait,
Or by the ravens’ cry.
Yes!
I’ve resolved the deed to do,
And this the place to do it:
This heart I’ll rush a dagger through,
Though I in hell should rue it!
Hell!
What is hell to one like
Who pleasures never know;
By friends consigned to misery,
By hope deserted too?
To ease me of this power to think,
That through my bosom raves,
I’ll headlong leap from hell’s high brink,
And wallow in its waves.
Though devils yell, and burning
May waken long regret;
Their frightful screams, and piercing pains,
Will help me to forget.
Yes!
I’m prepared, through endless night,
To take that fiery berth!
Think not with tales of hell to
Me, who am damn’d on earth!
Sweet steel! come forth from our your sheath,
And glist’ning, speak your powers;
Rip up the organs of my breath,
And draw my blood in showers!
I strike!
It quivers in that
Which drives me to this end;
I draw and kiss the bloody dart,
My last—my only friend!
The following lines were said to have been foundnear the bones of a man supposed to have committedsuicide, in a deep forest, on the Flat Branch of
Sangamon, some time ago.
