Like men escaped from sore calamities,
Where only life is saved from out the wreck. 
And one of these, an early friend, who died
Beneath the kindly shelter of your roof,
Left to your care his precious orphan child—­
His only child, his motherless, his daughter. 
And you received the gift, and vowed to be
A father to the little lonely one. 
Where is that orphan now?—­Must I go on? 
’Tis not to harrow up your trembling soul. 
I would not lay a feather on the weight
Stern memory brings to crash the guilty down. 
But I would stir your feelings to their depths. 
And bring, like conscience in your dying hour,
The sense of your great crime, that so you may
Repent, and Heaven will pardon.  Here on earth,
Man has no power t’ absolve such guilty deed. 
Prisoner, one month ago, and you were safe—­
A man among your neighbors well beloved,
And in your home the one preferred to all. 
No monarch could have driven you from the throne
You held in th’ loving hearts of wife and child. 
Your coming was their festival; your step,
As eve drew on, was music to their ears. 
The little girl, the adopted of your vow,
Was always at the door to claim the kiss
That you, with father’s tenderness, bestowed. 
Alas! for her—­for you—­the last return! 

    One fatal night you yielded to the tempter,

And drained the drunkard’s cup till reason fled,
And then went reeling home, your brain on fire,
And, raging like a tiger in the toils,
You fancied every human form a foe. 
And when that little girl, like playful fawn,
Unconscious of your state, came bounding forth
To clasp your knee and welcome “father home”—­
You, with a madman’s fury, struck her dead!

                    [A shriek is heard from prisoner’s wife.

Prisoner, for this offence you have been tried,
And every scope allowed that law could grant
To mitigate the awful punishment. 
No one believes that malice moved your mind;
But murdering maniacs may not live with men;
And therefore, prisoner, you are doomed for life
To solitary toil.  Alone! alone! alone! 
Love’s music voice will never greet your ear;
Affection’s eye will never meet your gaze;
Nor heart-warm hand of friend return your grasp;
But morn, and noon, and night, days, months, and years,
Will all be told in this one word—­alone! 
Prisoner, the world will leave you as the dead
Within your closing cell—­your living tomb. 
But One there is who pardons and protects,
And never leaves the penitent alone. 
Oh, turn to Him, the Saviour! so your cell,
That opens when you die, may lead to heaven:—­
And God have mercy on your penitence!

                          [Prisoner sinks down, as the curtain

                slowly falls.]

END OF ACT I.

* * * * *