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Updated: May 17, 2025
"Coffin that passes through lanes and streets, Through day and night, with the great cloud darkening the land, With the pomp of the inloop'd flags, with the cities draped in black, With the show of the States themselves, as of crape-veiled women, standing, With processions long and winding, and the flambeaus of the night, With the countless torches lit with the silent sea of faces, and the unbared heads, With the waiting depot, the arriving coffin, and the sombre faces, With dirges through the night, with the thousand voices rising strong and solemn; With all the mournful voices of the dirges, pour'd around the coffin, To dim-lit churches and the shuddering organs Where amid these you journey, With the tolling, tolling bells' perpetual clang; Here! coffin that slowly passes, I give you my sprig of lilac.
Every moment was too precious to be thrown away; he was therefore immediately put into the coach, though the day was far spent; and I, though exceedingly weak, accompanied him in the journey, which was performed by the light of flambeaus, and rendered unspeakingly shocking by the dismal apprehension of losing him every moment.
For with their bawling they alarmed some of the servants, who looking narrowly for the murderers, tracked us by Calista's, blood, which they saw with their flambeaus, from the place where Clarinau, and his nephew lay, to the very wall; and thinking from our wounds we could not escape far, they searching the houses, found me dressing Calista's wound, which I kissed a thousand times.
I live in the hope of seeing her irrisistable Brother to night, as we are going to Lady Flambeaus, who is I know intimate with the Marlowes. Our party will be Lady Lesley, Matilda, Fitzgerald, Sir James Gower, and myself. We see little of Sir George, who is almost always at the gaming-table. Ah! my poor Fortune where art thou by this time?
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