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

Part VIII - published in the Windsor Ledger Aug 10, 1899

I am fearing neighbor mine
   That you have quite weary grown
Of my yarns so long and tough
   And old chestnuts fully blown,
But I know sir, of your patience,
   Under torture long and dire
And I know too how you value
  Things that elevate and fire
Our souls to kindred thoughts and deeds
  And tokens of heroic deeds.

You would not in dull Lethe,
    Or in Stygean darkness lost,
Leave your name and fame of fathers
     Unto dark oblivion lost;
So hear me my gentle neighbor,
    As I plead for further room,
So the thread of my poor discourse
    May be fitted for the loom
And woven into tapestry
    To tell our tale eternally.

Who can know but what perchance,
   We may build some deathless rhyme
To haunt the dim corridors
   Of all future coming time;
For stranger things have happened sir,
    As dear Love and Truth are strong,
And can make us both immortal
    If we fitly sing our song;
So here's to you my poet friend,
    God grant our bays may ever blend.

You are not of such a bent
    As the man who lives for self,
You are not content to live
    In pursuit of dirty pelf;
But I'm proud to say ideals
    Of the very noblest kind,
Lift your soul to higher yearnings
   And adorn your ample mind;
You love the good and beautiful,
   And thus your hours are rarely dull.

So, now good friend, I'll revert
   To our story of the past,
But as you so fully know
   How averse I am to haste,
Let us pause and give a moment
   To regrets for old names lost
Forever to that fair domain,
   Which is still our pride and boast,
For those who left for other shores
   And one who came back nevermore.

Roslynn Castle that had stood
   So long in its pride of place,
Came at length to disaster
   And the loss of former grace;
A grand-nephew of old Robin
   Who ne'er did but one wise thing;
It so happened that he wedded
   One whose praise I love to sing;
For he to reckless gambling went
   And soon a noble fortune spent.

The wife lived in silent woe
   Till her husband came to death,
No complaint or murmur hers,
   Though of so much thus bereft;
I recall her still so gentle,
   Midst her children meek and fair,
Bravely bearing altered fortunes
   And refusing to despair;
Slow the years grew hard and harder,
   And scanter were her barn and larder.

My father rescued for her
   What he could of the estate;
And I happened long after
   She had gone and left the State
To find a letter, written then
   Telling him she often prayed,
If my mother e'er should lose him,
   That then, just such noble aid
Might bless and soften such an hour
   If sorrow made her feel its power.

Then at last the tale was told
   How the widow no more dwelt
Midst the friends who loved her well
   But whose hearts were soon to melt;
When they heard how journeying on,
   She had died in Tennessee
With her slaves and children round her,
   Stricken down so suddenly,
That the people were much a'feared
   To have her then and there interred.
     
Our great Chief Justice Taylor
   Was her highly honored sire,
And Judge Gaston her uncle,
   Rose in fame still higher,
Yet her descent only adorned
   One so gracious in her mien,
It was as if she had been born
   For the station of a queen;
She was my mother's cherished friend---
   No wonder we deployed her end.

Alas for poor John Louis!
   Her own brother frail and fond,
Who was so far inferior
   To his father dead and gone,
But a good fellow in his way,
   In spite of all his weakness,
And as our county solicitor
   Was content with little fees;
One of the many, who despite
  All human aids ne'er reach the light.

Then lived your sire and grandsire,
  Colonel Vann and Jimmy Knight,
Sheriff Perry and Eley Newsome,
  And four Taylors, if I'm right;
Now Captain Lang alone is left
  Of all those stalwart brothers,
There places know them now no more
  And some belong to others,
But Captain Lang's himself an host,
  And much atones for what we've lost.

The Littles and the Ridleys, 
   With the Powells and the Browns,
Like the Ushers and the Terrys
   Have become but empty sounds
To the men who now replace them
   Spite of all their wealth and blood;
So their names will soon be numbered
   With those lost in Noah's flood;
How fleeting is all human worth
   That scarce survives its day of birth.
  
And then lived Abner Perry,
   Worthy grandson of the man
Who had borne himself bravely,
   And was wounded at Camden;
My old friend had been the Sheriff,
   But was then plain citizen,
With his lordly port and stature,
    I can see him now again---
An honest man above reproach,
   For whom his friends could all avouch.

His old grandsire, after peace
   Had brought quiet to our land,
Very high in the affections
   Of our people long did stand
For more than twenty thronging years
   Both in Senate and the House,
He in Raleigh legislated;
   Nor did Hertford county lose
Her trust in him until there came
   His end of life if not of fame.

There were others of Hertford
   Who were faithful in that war,
Who did survive long and well,
   Both at home and then afar;
There was the surgeon, John Wheeler,
   Who with bold Montgomery,
Went on fatal expedition
   Against Quebec strong and high;
They stormed the city, but alas!
   It was of fights, Montgomery's last.