JOHN WILSON BENGOUGH
JUNE 6, 1891
DEAD! dead! And now beforeThe threshold of bereavëd Earnscliffe stand,In spirit, all who dwell within our land,From shore to shore!Before that black-draped gate,Men, women, children mourn the Premier gone,For many loved and worshipped old Sir John,And none could hate.And he is dead, they say!The words confuse and mock the general ear—What! can there yet be House and members here,And no John A.?So long all hearts he swayed,Like merry monarch of some olden time,Whose subjects questioned not his right divine,But just obeyedHis will's e'en faintest breath.We had forgotten, 'midst affairs of State,'Midst Hansard, Second Readings and Debate,Such things as death!Swift came the dread eclipseOf faculty, and limb and life at last,Ere to the Judge of all the earth he passed,With silent lips,But not insensate heart!He was no harsh, self-righteous Pharisee—The tender Christ compassioned such as he,And took their part.As for his Statesman-fame,Let History calm his wondrous record read,And write the truth, and give him honest meedOf praise or blame!
DEAD! dead! And now beforeThe threshold of bereavëd Earnscliffe stand,In spirit, all who dwell within our land,From shore to shore!Before that black-draped gate,Men, women, children mourn the Premier gone,For many loved and worshipped old Sir John,And none could hate.And he is dead, they say!The words confuse and mock the general ear—What! can there yet be House and members here,And no John A.?So long all hearts he swayed,Like merry monarch of some olden time,Whose subjects questioned not his right divine,But just obeyedHis will's e'en faintest breath.We had forgotten, 'midst affairs of State,'Midst Hansard, Second Readings and Debate,Such things as death!Swift came the dread eclipseOf faculty, and limb and life at last,Ere to the Judge of all the earth he passed,With silent lips,But not insensate heart!He was no harsh, self-righteous Pharisee—The tender Christ compassioned such as he,And took their part.As for his Statesman-fame,Let History calm his wondrous record read,And write the truth, and give him honest meedOf praise or blame!
DEAD! dead! And now beforeThe threshold of bereavëd Earnscliffe stand,In spirit, all who dwell within our land,From shore to shore!
DEAD! dead! And now before
The threshold of bereavëd Earnscliffe stand,
In spirit, all who dwell within our land,
From shore to shore!
Before that black-draped gate,Men, women, children mourn the Premier gone,For many loved and worshipped old Sir John,And none could hate.
Before that black-draped gate,
Men, women, children mourn the Premier gone,
For many loved and worshipped old Sir John,
And none could hate.
And he is dead, they say!The words confuse and mock the general ear—What! can there yet be House and members here,And no John A.?
And he is dead, they say!
The words confuse and mock the general ear—
What! can there yet be House and members here,
And no John A.?
So long all hearts he swayed,Like merry monarch of some olden time,Whose subjects questioned not his right divine,But just obeyed
So long all hearts he swayed,
Like merry monarch of some olden time,
Whose subjects questioned not his right divine,
But just obeyed
His will's e'en faintest breath.We had forgotten, 'midst affairs of State,'Midst Hansard, Second Readings and Debate,Such things as death!
His will's e'en faintest breath.
We had forgotten, 'midst affairs of State,
'Midst Hansard, Second Readings and Debate,
Such things as death!
Swift came the dread eclipseOf faculty, and limb and life at last,Ere to the Judge of all the earth he passed,With silent lips,
Swift came the dread eclipse
Of faculty, and limb and life at last,
Ere to the Judge of all the earth he passed,
With silent lips,
But not insensate heart!He was no harsh, self-righteous Pharisee—The tender Christ compassioned such as he,And took their part.
But not insensate heart!
He was no harsh, self-righteous Pharisee—
The tender Christ compassioned such as he,
And took their part.
As for his Statesman-fame,Let History calm his wondrous record read,And write the truth, and give him honest meedOf praise or blame!
As for his Statesman-fame,
Let History calm his wondrous record read,
And write the truth, and give him honest meed
Of praise or blame!