The cairn

Chapter 371: Death.

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About This Book

A compact miscellany of short essays, anecdotes, prayers, poems, and biographical sketches that collects reflections on grief, maternal love, benevolence, virtue, taste, and historical episodes. The pieces alternate personal memories, moral aphorisms, humorous and touching anecdotes, and brief portraits of public figures, often framed as letters, epitaphs, or short narratives. Recurring themes include the effects of sorrow and joy, domestic affection, charity, the vicissitudes of fortune, and the consolations of faith and art. The tone moves between intimate recollection and light moralizing, presenting varied, self-contained vignettes meant to instruct, console, and amuse.

Death.

What art thou, Death? that we should fear

The shadow of a shade;

What’s in thy name that meets the ear

Of which to be afraid?

Thou art not care, thou art not pain,

But thou art rest and peace;

’Tis thou can make our terrors vain,

And bid our torments cease.

Thy hand can draw the rankling thorn

From out the wounded breast;

Thy curtain screens the wretch forlorn,

Thy pallet gives him rest.

Misfortune’s sting, affliction’s throes,

Detraction’s pois’nous breath;

The world itself, and all its woes,

Are swallow’d up in death.