Legends and Memories of St John's Chapel -
Addressed to R. A. Riddick
by Major John W. Moore 

Part XXVII  - published in the Windsor Ledger Jan.  25, 1900

 Yet the lovers still would meet,
And no shadow ever came
On their perfect understanding
And still kept alive the flame,
Of their love that never waited
On what others did or said:
Major Brown might chafe and suffer
But they like the happy dead
Were yet in all the storm serene
He was her love, and she his queen.

She too was very happy
When he came back to her arms,
When with General Robert Howe
He took part in wars alarms,
Having driven back the foemen,
From Virginia's ravaged soil,
He was put in a position
Largely free from death and toil
Still serving well the patriot cause
His part was to uphold the laws.

So it was, he often came
To his own ancestral farm,
Guarding well his aged sire,
And his neighbors from all harm,
In his way, it was not seldom
He met her, his spirit blessed,
She, that was doubly faithful
Unto him, and sire distressed;
The veteran so old and broken
Was then of sorrow but a token.

Old age and grief had their worst
Done upon him, when his boy
Too, was gone away forever
Who had been so great a joy,
He that once so sternly banished;
All his royal love and zeal,
Now in silence sat dejected,
As the heavy hours would steal
O'er him with no hope of pleasure
Now he'd lost his greatest treasure.

News come soon from Brandywine
Whereby, La Fayette's own side
Jack like, he had glory won,
And alas there too, had died,
The noble Marquis, message sent
To the old man of his boy
Feeling how he bravely charging
War fame nothing could destroy
But then recurred the fatal thought
His son against his King had fought.

Everybody save a few
Men of evil lives and fame,
Felt the deeper sympathy
With the old man, weak and lame,
These pretending to be zealous
Were but plotting, how to loot
The fine house and big plantation,
So they started tales afloat
That he sent message, to those
Well known, to be our worst of foes.

This was done so secretly,
But few people were aware
Of those most wicked slanders
On the ancient grenadier,
There were scarce a half a dozen
Of these men of ill report
Like those ancient Thessalonians
"Lewd and of the baser sort
Men who could filch your life or name
Regardless of all law and shame.

Young Godwin was so kindly
That one of those evil men,
Gave him timely intimation
Of the things they did intend;
They, he said would kill this Tory,
And his dwelling o'er him burn;
For they said loyal traitors
Were deserving such a turn
His daughter might shift as she pleased
This land of Tories must be eased.

Godwin was at first appalled
He so gentle and so true,
Was so staggered at the tale
That he knew not what to do.
But caressed and so persuaded
His informant, that he told
More and more of their intentions,
Which grew daily still more bold
Until at last they fixed the night
In which to kindle such a light.

Three bold fellows, who had been
In the war with General Howe
Were at home, upon furlough.
And almost recovered now,
Of the wounds, so nobly gotten
In the fight at Stony Point,
They were men he knew would never
In sore trial disappoint,
The comrade who in danger dire
Would bravely go through blood and fire.

The lover saw his mistress
In the morning of the day
That was fixed to be the latest
Of her father's earthly stay,
He told her of all the danger,
But besought her, not to tell
E'en her father of what she knew
Of those low-born sons of hell
To him not any mortal soul
Was she this secret to unfold.

The mansion of the Major
Stood midway a level field
Slightly overlooking meadows,
That for beauty, would not yield
To any in the broadest reach
Of the region anywhere
With their wealth of waving grasses
With an oak tree here and there
It was a scene that well might please
All honest men with souls at ease.

The shadows and the silence,
Of a wide and ancient grove,
Made the grounds around the house
Such as dreamers love to rove,
Almost hiding the wide mansion
From wayfarers passing by
When from the distant roadway
It fell faintly on the eye
Inquiring how it would compare
With some around so broad and fair.

The old man could but notice
The look of love and deep care
His daughter on that evening
More than ever seemed to wear,
Tender eyes ne'er shown before
With such wishful mounful gaze,
He thought her sweet soul was heavy
With her dreams of former days
Of him so lonely bent and gray
Who must soon cease with her to stay.

The old soldier, still erect
In his ample chair of State
Sat not silent in his place
As had been the case of late,
The sorrow and anxiety
In her plainly manifest
Showed the father that her feelings
Far from being all at rest 
Were from cause most certainly
Disturbed almost beyond degree.

In his utter ignorance
Of great danger then so nigh,
Sat at first almost silent
But her anxious looks and sigh,
At last stirred him into asking,
Why she dropped so low that night,
Why the cheek, that should be blooming
Was become so ashy white
"Say, my daughter, if you love me
What can this fresh sad matter be?"

But her pledge unto one
who knew what was for the best
Had forbidden him that knowledge,
And she only could protest
That her health was never better,
But so great for him the love
She was only for him anxious
That she long could to him prove
How she loved so good a father
Whom bad men so much did bother.

But he was not satisfied,
Well, he knew, fresh sorrow deep,
Despite all her sweet protests
O'er her loving soul must creep
Then he thought that she was grieving
For young Jack, so far away
On the Brandywine low sleeping,
Then forever and a day
His noble boy so early gone
While life was yet but in its morn.