Burning of Richmond Theatre. [A melancholy event in the history of Richmond was the burning of the Theatre, on the night of Dec. 26, 1811, by which the Governor of the state and many others perished in the flames.] WAS on that well-remembered night, "The night is long, the troupe's in town, And so they gathered from the town— To watch the play upon the stage, Talent and beauty were gathered there,And Virginia's Governor, too, Not thinking that death would claim the best Ere they saw the actors through. The play began; all minds were fixed So intently on the scene, That naught but death could throw a veil The scenery caught from a chandelier, 'And blazed throughout that stricken crowd Like lightning in the sky. The strong and great trod down the weak- In vain they plead for help to come; And then the angry flames replied, "My work is sure and certain death!" The frightful sound of bursting flames, The writhing groans of deep despair; They all arose from that solemn spot, And floated off on the midnight air. When men were leaping to the ground, There rose a piercing cry, "where can our Governor be?" And but the roaring flames replied, "I've sealed his destiny!" When that reaper had done his work, She Died With the Old Year. THE snow was falling thick and fast, O'er woodland, town and city, too;The piercing blast went sweeping by And filled the streets and alleys through. The earth was robed in spotless white;The merry sleigh-bells seemed to say, "Improve your time, both old and young, For lo! the old year dies to-night!" The street lamps lit the passers by, Their welcome rays shone forth on allThe old, the young, the rich, the poorOn marble fronts and cottage wall. Yes, the dear old year was dying, Its latest hours were waning fast; When they heard the chime at midnight Lo! what was that year unveiling? Where no sighing dared to enter, Ah, no; among that crowd That passed the street-lamps' flickering light, Went a child with a tattered robe, And a heart that sickened at the sight. Of all things rare that tempt the eyeFor he thought of the cold and dismal room, And the pallet of straw where his mother lie. He knew she had striven with anguish. Her heart was crushed with despair; |