PS 3340 
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 A Poem Sad and Serious, 
 
 OF LILLIAN AND CLUVERIOS ! 
 
 The shades of night were falling fast 
 As through the streets of Richmond passed. 
 A youth, who bore mid snow and ice 
 The victim of a foul device, 
 
 Poor Lillian^ 
 
 "Let's try the car" the young man said 
 "Dark lowers the tempest over head" 
 The march wind whistled wild and wide, 
 But on the man the maid relied, 
 
 Cluverius. 
 
 "Oh! stay" the maiden said ''and rest" 
 
 But naught replying on he pressed. 
 
 She following wheresoe'er he led 
 
 On to the city of the dead. 
 
 There in this midnight lair were laid. 
 
 The victims whom Disease had slayed. 
 
 There in the dark and dismal shade 
 
 The very air e'en seemed decayed 
 
 The tottering head-boards gleaming white 
 
 Against the storm}' winter night 
 
 Seemed to exhale on all around 
 
 The foul contagion of the ground. 
 
 Poor Lillian r 
 
 "Why strayed she thus ?" the curious aek^ 
 Why try the long and tedious task ? 
 Why follow to this lonely place 
 The author of her deep disgrace, 
 
 Cluverius I 
 
Because — Oh woman! in thy fall 
 Wretched and robbed, bereft of all, 
 Where could she turn for sheltering place 
 But to that viper of his race 
 
 Cluverius ? 
 
 Once she was pure, and chaste, and fair, 
 That wily serpent laid the snare, 
 That led her thus in mad dispair 
 To follow, follow anywhere 
 
 Cluverius. 
 
 On him alone she must depend, 
 Deprived by him of every friend, 
 An outcast, with no hand to save 
 Pollow she must, if to the grave. 
 
 Cluverius. 
 
 Led to a low and wretched den, 
 Unfit to shelter hardy men, 
 Betrayed, undone, to pevish thus, 
 By that foul fiend, Cluverius ? 
 
 Poor Lillian! 
 
 Back on herself she must recoil. 
 Crushed, yet her woman's blood would boil. 
 *'Is this my resting place," she said 
 "This my shelter, this my bed, 
 
 Cluverius?" 
 
 "I cannot stay, I follow still 
 Back over field, and fen. and hill, 
 "Whither thou goest I will go" 
 Traitor to woman in her woe 
 
 Cluverius!" 
 
 ^'Some better place thou must provide, 
 This tale of treachery to hide. 
 Or else the world shall know the truth 
 To blast and blight thee, in thy youth 
 
 Cluverius!" 
 
8 
 
 Turning, he onward went his way, 
 Muttering "PI take you where you'l stay" 
 She followed hlindly at his will, 
 On to the grave, on to the hill, 
 
 Cluverius. 
 
 Fancy her wild and wear}- look 
 As up the slope her way she took 
 Recalling now — "poor soiled dove" — 
 The old old promises of love. 
 That won her faith, that stole her heart, 
 That stung her with its poisoned dart 
 And left her with the serpents trail 
 Unsheltered from the mad March gale. 
 
 Poor Lillian! 
 
 These were her thoughts, but darker still. 
 
 While climbing up the slippery hill, 
 
 The scheme he wrought — that he would hurl 
 
 Into the depths, the homeless girl. 
 
 Murder! the very breath of hell, 
 
 Now bound him in its fiendish spell. 
 
 To thrust into that grave of ice, 
 
 The wretched victim of his vice. 
 
 Poor Lillian! 
 
 Her words waxed warm, as well they might. 
 In such a place, in such a plight. 
 Until he stood across her path 
 A very demon in his wrath, 
 
 Cluverius. 
 
 The air was keen upon the hill, 
 The night was bleak, and dark, and chill, 
 The wind was shrieking wild and shrill 
 "Thou Shalt not kill, thou shalt not kill" 
 
 Cluverius!" 
 
She struggled with a deadly strife, 
 The helpless woman, for her life. 
 He dealt her one o'er whelming blow 
 Which sent her reeling to and fro, 
 Then with a quick convulsive gras[), 
 Her tottering form he firmly clasped, 
 And in that watery grave of ice 
 He cast the victim of his vice. 
 
 Poor Lillian! 
 
 The twinkling stars withheld their light, 
 The moon grew sick, at such a sight, 
 And drew the curtaining clouds of night, 
 To hide her face for very fright. 
 Only the demons down in hell, 
 Looked on and laughed, with devil's yell 
 "Ha! ha! the deed is done, well, well! 
 'Twas quickly done, and who shall tell 
 
 Cluverius ?" 
 
 Scarce had the struggling woman sank, 
 Down in the dark and mirkey tank 
 Than terror seized on every limb 
 And painted there his dreadful sin. 
 Appalled with horrow back he sped, 
 A coward! fleeing from the dead 
 
 A Murderer. 
 
 Xittle he thought that far behind, 
 
 Toy of the keen capricious wind, 
 
 The empty glove, was pointing still, 
 
 As though controlled by human will, 
 
 To him alone of all mankind. 
 
 On whom God's vengence he would find. 
 
 Back to the haunts of man he turned. 
 While all his soul within him burned, 
 Starting anon at every sound 
 That echoed o'er the frozen ground; 
 
Shadows before him all the way, 
 Loomed up in visage grim and gray 
 And myraid voices seemed to say 
 "Vengeance is mine, I will repay" 
 
 Cluverius." 
 
 The daylight dawning clear and still, 
 Now broke upon the silent hill, 
 There in the twilight soft and gray 
 Lifeless and cold poor Lillian lay. 
 
 The slimy depths refuse to hold 
 The midnight secret all untold. 
 And in bewildering doubt to hide. 
 This dreadful tale of homicide. 
 
 The watchman in his daily round, 
 Picked up the glove upon the ground, 
 Nor dreamed that it would ever be, 
 The garb of human destiny. 
 But see! he starts, on drawing near 
 The waters edge, and gazed in fear, 
 To see within the chilly bed, 
 The form of woman cold and dead. 
 
 "Young and betrayed, she sought this place," 
 He said, "to free her from disgrace, 
 And hide beneath the waters breast. 
 The secret she had ne'er confessed." 
 
 "Not so" suspicion wisely said, 
 "The fair young woman lying dead, 
 No victim was of suicide, 
 But by a murderous hand she died. 
 Some cruel wretch has placed her there. 
 Who should have shielded her with care. 
 Behold the footprints on the sand, 
 Where they contended hand to hand, 
 The kindly wind withheld its breath 
 
Nor moved, nor stirred, these si^ns of death, 
 
 A watchful eye was on this spot, 
 
 And bade the breeze disturb them not," 
 
 A glove, a veil, a shawl, a string, 
 
 A watch-key with a broken ring, 
 
 These were the silent tongues to tell. 
 
 While laughed again t'he tiends of hell 
 
 Shrieking in one exultant shout, 
 
 *'Be sure your sin will find you out" 
 
 Cluverius!" 
 
 Flee as you may from '^dogs of law," 
 There's one who knew, and heard, and saiv, 
 There's one who caught the helpless cry, 
 "Oh, Lord!" of hopeless misery. 
 
 Justice with equal scale shall stand 
 Before the sages of the land, 
 To prove if thou shalt be or not 
 The author of the fiendish plot, 
 
 Cluverius." 
 
 The voice of Aylett, rich and clear, 
 Has laid the horrid picture bear. 
 Has torn the cloak of night away, 
 And brought it to the light of day. 
 While Meredith, with silver tongue 
 Matchless in power, for one so young, 
 Has painted with a master hand 
 The justice which the law's demand. 
 '^Look on the prisoner in that spot, 
 Say! is he guilty then, or not ? 
 Virginians! let your verdict be. 
 Murder, and in the first degree." 
 
 'Twas summer time, and soft and still, 
 The moon shine nestled on that hill, 
 Where e'rst upon the bleak March night, 
 God heard and saw the dreadful sight. 
 
The stars in mellow radiance fell, 
 On Oakwood's sad and lonely dell 
 Where wrapt in silence all serene 
 Bedecked in hues of 
 There sweetly slept 
 
 Poor Lillian! 
 
 Oh! think you not, she must have heard, 
 The tongue of Justice spoke that word, 
 Which branded — ^^guilty^^ clear and plain 
 Upon the author of her shame 
 
 Cluverius ? 
 
 Methinks that sound so deep and clear, 
 Must sure have waked her soul to hear, 
 And through the starry sunmier night, 
 Have reached her in her robes of white. 
 
 Men's hearts rejoiced, and down in hell 
 He heard the self same demons yell. 
 Deride him with the jeering shout 
 "Murder will out! Murder will out!" 
 
 Cluverius." 
 
 "We dragged you with a silken thread 
 On to that city of the dead, 
 We fooled you with the hollow yell 
 The deed is done, and who shall tell" 
 
 Cluverius!" 
 
 That night within the murderer's cell 
 
 He strove in vain his thoughts to quell, 
 
 Restless, he turned him to and fro, 
 
 But wheresoe'er he sought to go, 
 
 He heard the March wind loud and wide 
 
 And Lillian followed at his side. 
 
 Then in the days of childish glee 
 
 His laughing playmate would he see, 
 
 As in the summer time of yore 
 
 When she was sinless, chaste, and pure. 
 
8 
 
 The vision, changing swift and fleet, 
 She clasped him in her winding sheet, 
 And shrieked aloud the self same word 
 "Old Aaron" on the midnight heard. 
 
 The rush of waters ringing clear 
 Like thunder, broke upon his ear, 
 The sinking form that strove to rise 
 The gloom that over spread the skies, 
 That form beneath the waters brim 
 Striving in vain with every limb. 
 Her sin stained soul from death to save 
 And free her from this icy grave. 
 
 Poor Lillian! 
 
 Down to the earth from whence he sprung 
 ITnwept, unhonored, and unsung. 
 Unfit to feed the worms of dust, 
 Thou goest hence, Cluverius! 
 
 There sits a Judge who shall reveal, 
 Thy guilt bereft of all appeal, 
 Then no " exceptio7is^^ will he make. 
 And no ^^ objections'^ will he take, 
 But into ''outer darkness" cast, 
 Wherever mourns the midnight blast, 
 Shalt thou abide. "Depart from us," 
 "Thou art the man" — Cluverius." 
 
 lot 7lf 
 

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