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Updated: May 22, 2025
He has a thought, a pity, for those things that once were men and women, lying, with their six feet of earth upon them, in our English Churchyards, so horribly still, while the mask of their sorrow yields to the yet more terrible grin of our mortality's last jest. And to the last he is like all children the lover of Players.
When the Creator banished from his sight Frail man to dark mortality's abode, And granted him a late return to light, Only by treading reason's arduous road, When each immortal turned his face away, She, the compassionate, alone Took up her dwelling in that house of clay, With the deserted, banished one.
I suppose there will always be fresh men to do Old Mortality's office for this inscription, for the maxim is one which has long been popular in America among patriotic declaimers.
There is the bare enclosure, surrounded by four walls, and without a tree, far up the lonely Highland hill-side; and more lonely still, the little gray stone, rising above the purple heather, where rude letters, touched up by Old Mortality's hands, tell that one, probably two or three, rest beneath, who were done to death for what they firmly believed was their Redeemer's cause, by Claverhouse or Dalyell.
"Do you not perceive an alteration in his appearance? In plainer words, do you not think him looking very ill?" Miss Brewer, generally so impassive, started, and looked at her patroness with a gaze in which alarm was plainly visible. She had hazarded so much in order to bring about a marriage between Douglas and her patroness; and what if mortality's dread enemy, Death, should forbid the banns?
'And oh, your dear blue eyes, that heavenward glance With kindred beauty, banished humbleness, Past weeping for mortality's distress Yet from your soul a tear hangs there in trance. And fills, but does not fall; Softly I hear it call At heaven's gate, till Sister Seraphs press To look on you their old love from the skies: Those are the eyes of Seraphs bright on your blue eyes! "Beautiful!
'And oh, your dear blue eyes, that heavenward glance With kindred beauty, banished humbleness, Past weeping for mortality's distress Yet from your soul a tear hangs there in trance. And fills, but does not fall; Softly I hear it call At heaven's gate, till Sister Seraphs press To look on you their old love from the skies: Those are the eyes of Seraphs bright on your blue eyes! "Beautiful!
For after he had seen the wall for present safety, the foundations for continuation, the gates for entrance, and the like, then he comes to tell us of the glory of all, and of the street itself at last; which indeed is the last and end of all the order of God, and to continue till an end be put to it by mortality's being swallowed up of life.
And thou, blest maid! attendant on his doom. Pensive hast followed to the silent tomb, Steered the same course to the same quiet shore, Not parted long, and now to part no more! Go, then, where only bliss sincere is known! Go, where to love and to enjoy are one! Yet take these tears, Mortality's relief, And, till we share your joys, forgive our grief: These little rites a stone, a verse receive.
Yet she was mortal; and one of mortality's most susceptible and loving compounds; for she loved me! How first I discovered the transporting truth I cannot recollect; I believe it stole upon me by degrees, as a wonder past hope or belief.
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