"For you are held in grievous bonds, while he's forever free"

I think I have yet to truly post a Small Rambling on this blog :) Here's another long one, you history buffs will love it.

This was a letter writen by my ggg Grandfather during the Civil War. His friend had just died in the death house of Camp Chase when the friend received word that his fiance has been unfaithful. Here is what my Grandfather wrote back to the unfaithful fiance.

"Your letter came, but came to late. For heaven had claimed its own. There are sudden changes from prison bars unto the Great White Throne. And yet I think he would have stayed for one more day of pain, could he have read those tardy words which you have sent in vain.

Wy did you wait, fair lady through so many a weary hour, had you other lovers with you, in that silken dainty bower? Did others bow before your charms and twine bright garlands there?And yet I ween in all that throng his spirit had no peer.

I wish thatyou were by me now as I draw the sheet aside. To see thee look how pure it were awhile before he died. Yet the sorrow that  you gave him still had left its weary trace and a meek and saintly sadness dwells upon his pallied face.

"her love", he said, "could change for me the winter's cold to spring". Ah, trust of thoughtless maiden's lvoe, thou art a bitter thing. For when these valley fair in May-once more with bloom shall wave and the northern violets blow above his humble grave. You dole of scanty words had been, nut one more pang to bear. Though, to the last, he kissed with love this tress of your soft hair. I did not put it where he said, for when the angels come, I would not have them find the sign of falsehood in the tomb.

I've read the letter, and I know the wiles that you have wrought to win that noble heart of hisand gained it - fearful thought. What lavish wealth men sometimes give for a trifle, light and small. What manly forms are often held in follie's flimsy thrall.

You shall not pity him, for now he's past your hope and fear; Although I wish that you could stand with me besides his grave. Still I forgive you; Heaven knows. For mercy you'll have need since God his aweful judgement sends on each unworthy deed. Tonight the cold winds whistle by as I my vigil keep. Within the prisons dead house were few mourns come to wheep. A rude plank coffin holds him now, yet death gives always grace. And I would rather seem him thus, then clasped in your embrace. Tonight your rooms are very gay, with wit and wine and song; and you are smirking jsut as if you never did a wrong. Your hand so fair that none would think it penned these words of pain. Your skin so white, would god, your soul, where half so free of stain.

 I'd rather be the dear dear friend then you in all your glee. For you are held in greivous bonds while he's forever free. Whom serve we in this life, we serve in that which is to come. He chose his way; you, your's. Let God pronounce the final doom."