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Digitized by tine Internet Arciiive 
 in 2010 witii funding from 
 Tine Library of Congress 
 
 littp://www.arcliive.org/details/doveparodyontlierOOscot 
 
THE DOVE. 
 
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 The Dove. 
 
 8mlttM''fft^f(a^^m" 
 
 J. W. S^OTT, D.D. 
 
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 PHILADELPHIA: J 
 PUBLISHED FOR THE AUTHOR BY 
 
 CLAXTON, REMSEN & HAFFELFINGER, 
 
 624, 626 & 62S MARKET STREET. 
 1874. 
 

 Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1873, by 
 
 J. W. SCOTT, D. D., 
 
 in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 
 
 n-M^ J. FAG AN 4 SON, l?SV«. 
 
 ^*^<^ » STEREOTVPERS, PHILAD'A. t^j^^^ 
 
fti^s^~ir HAD the following parody in my desk, 
 
 O^ made out in a different form, when 
 •^' HI wv) 
 
 s&j recently called home by telegram to 
 
 find the wife of my youth lying cold 
 
 in death. Those who have had a similar experience, 
 
 it is believed, will appreciate the form which the 
 
 parody here assumes. Perhaps no others can. Still, I 
 
 give the little performance to the world, with the 
 
 hope that some may be led by it to the obtaining of 
 
 a like precious faith, a like decided and consistent 
 
 Christian life, and a like calm, peaceful, and happy 
 
 death, with those of the sainted wife, who is, not 
 
 lost, but gone before, 
 
 J. W. Scott. 
 
 Wkst Virginia University, 
 
 MORGANTOWN, WeST Va. 
 
 January, 1873. 
 I* V 
 
I. 
 
 HEN friends beloved are snatched away 
 by death, 
 How diff'rently men feel the dread 
 event ! 
 Some wilt, as blasted by the with'ring breath 
 Of dark despair, from realm Plutonian sent, — 
 No hope of following where the loved ones 
 went: 
 While others gaze as on those gone before, 
 
 And looking upward, lo ! the heavens are rent 
 To their firm faith, and from the shining shore, 
 Sweet Hope descends to cheer their bruis'd 
 hearts evermore. 
 
PRELUDE. 
 
 II. 
 
 A gifted bard has of the Raven sung, 
 
 Making him emblem meet of drear despair: 
 
 Weird, mystic, in his aspect and his tongue, 
 He makes us shiver as he settles there, 
 And " nevermore " repeats with aptness rare. 
 
 I, for the Raven, substitute the Dove, 
 
 Emblem of innocence and heavenly care. 
 
 Of faith and hope and Holy Spirit's love, — 
 
 Here giving joy and peace, eternal life above. 
 
 III. 
 
 Two pictures here : Reader, which shall be thine? 
 
 The one funereal with eternal gloom, 
 Or that one radiant with light divine ? 
 
 Admit the sweet bird of the snowy plume, — 
 
 With hope and heaven he '11 fill thy sadden'd 
 room : 
 Ne'er parley with the ill-omen'd bird of night. 
 
 The Raven fell, whose flight stops at the tomb ; 
 Naught wotteth he of the celestial light 
 The Dove sheds over death, from plumage ever 
 bright. 
 
PRELUDE. 
 
 IX 
 
 IV. 
 
 From hopeless death I 'd call your thoughts away; 
 
 Around its shores the ravens hoarsely cry, 
 And ghosts of earthly joys departed stray : 
 To heavenly regions I would bid them fly — 
 The realms which faith unfolds beyond the 
 sky — 
 Where gently fall upon the list'ning ear, 
 
 Soothing the sorrows that on sad hearts lie, 
 The cooings of the doves, which there you '11 
 
 hear 
 In the Rock of Ages' clefts, resounding sweet 
 and clear. 
 
The Dove. 
 
 oi«ic 
 
 A PARODY. 
 
 I. 
 
 NCE upon a storm-night dreary, sat I 
 pond'ring, restless, weary, 
 Over many a text of Scripture, helped 
 by ancient sages' lore. 
 Anxious, nervous, far from napping; — suddenly 
 
 there came a tapping. 
 As of some one gently rapping — rapping at my 
 
 chamber-door. 
 Night like this 'tis scarce a visitor, tapping at 
 my chamber-door ? 
 
 This, I thought, and nothing more. 
 
12 THE DOVE. 
 
 11. 
 
 Ah '^'stinctly I remember, it was in the bleak 
 
 December, 
 And each separate dying ember, glimmfer'd 
 
 ghostly on the floor : 
 Earnestly I wished the morrow; vainly had I 
 
 sought to borrow 
 From my Bible ease of sorrow — sorrow for the 
 
 lost Annore, 
 For a saintly, radiant matron, whom the angels 
 
 name Annore — 
 
 Lately wife, now wife no more. 
 
 III. 
 
 She had passed the gloomy portals, which for- 
 ever hide from mortals 
 
 Spirit myst'ries, which the living eagerly long 
 to explore. 
 
 Poring o'er the sacred pages, guides to all the 
 good for ages. 
 
 Sat I, helped by lore of sages, when the rapping 
 at my door, 
 
THE DOVE. 13 
 
 Startled me as if a spirit had come to my cham- 
 ber-door, ■ 
 
 Tapping thus, and meaning more. ■ 
 
 IV. 
 
 And the plaintive, low, uncertain rustling of each 
 window-curtain 
 
 Thrill'd me — filled my quaking heart with ter- 
 rors never felt before : 
 
 Is there, then, a life of glory, as we 're taught in 
 sacred story ? 
 
 Can this be some prophet hoary, standing at my 
 chamber-door — 
 
 Prophet from the dead arisen, standing at my 
 chamber-door — 
 
 Rapping thus, and meaning more ? 
 
 V. 
 
 Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then 
 no longer, 
 
 " Truly, friend, I treat you badly, your forgive- 
 ness I implore ; 
 
 Surely I have not been napping, but so gently 
 
 you came rapping, 
 2 
 
14 THE DOVE. 
 
 And so faintly you came tapping — tapping at 
 
 my cliamber-door, 
 That I scarce knew what the sound meant" — 
 
 here I opened wide the door : 
 
 Darkness there, and nothing more. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Deep into the darkness peering, long I stood 
 
 there, wondering, fearing. 
 Awe-struck, thinking thoughts few mortals ever 
 
 happ'd to think before ; 
 But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness 
 
 gave no token, 
 And the only word there spoken, was the whis- 
 
 per'd word, " Annore ! " 
 This / whisper'd, and an echo murmur'd back 
 
 the word, " Annore ! " 
 
 Merely this, and nothing more. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Back into my chamber hasting, anguish deeper 
 still now tasting, 
 
THE DOVE. 15 
 
 Soon again I heard a rapping — something louder 
 than before. 
 
 Surely, thought I, surely that is something at my 
 window-lattice ; 
 
 Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mys- 
 tery explore ; — 
 
 Oh ! my heart, be still a moment, till this mys- 
 tery I explore ; — 
 
 Is 't the wind, and nothing more ? 
 
 VIII 
 
 Open here I jElung the shutter, when with gentle 
 
 nod and flutter. 
 In there came a gracious white dove of the 
 
 saintly days of yore. 
 Then, as if obeisance made he, and no longer 
 
 stopp'd or stay'd he, 
 But, in innocence array'd, he perch'd above my 
 
 chamber-door, — 
 Perch'd upon a bust of Paulus, just above my 
 
 chamber-door — 
 
 Perch'd and sat, and nothing more. 
 
l6 THE DOVE. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Then this snowy bird surprising my sad heart 
 
 into surmising, 
 Whether this was done at random, or some 
 
 mystic meaning bore, — 
 " Surely," said I, " thou art fairer than of ill to 
 
 be the bearer, 
 Of such saintly guise the wearer, thou art from 
 
 some heav'nly shore ; 
 Wilt thou help me on my journey toward that 
 
 bright celestial shore ? " 
 
 Quoth the white dove, " Evermore ! " 
 
 X. 
 
 Startl'd now as one from dreaming, suddenly 
 
 awak'd and seeming 
 To have heard a voice mysterious thrilling to 
 
 his heart's deep core, — 
 Ev'ry thought and feeling reaching after light and 
 
 further teaching, 
 In attitude of one beseeching, gazed I at my 
 
 chamber-door. — 
 
THE DOVE. 17 
 
 At the bird, which had so aptly — perch'd upon 
 my chamber-door — 
 
 Spoken out that " Evermore ] " 
 
 XI. 
 But the white dove's aspect childly, and his soft 
 
 eyes beaming mildly, 
 Loving looks, as if a full heart speedily he would 
 
 outpour, 
 Led me to expect revealing, unto which my soul 
 
 appealing, — 
 With a strange hope o'er me stealing, such as 
 
 never came before, — 
 " May I look for peace and comfort such as I 've 
 
 ne'er felt before ? " 
 
 And the bird said, " Evermore ! " 
 
 XII. 
 
 So the bright bird thus beguiling all my sad soul 
 
 into smiling. 
 Straight I wheel'd a cushion'd chair in front of 
 
 bird and bust and door; 
 Then upon the soft seat sinking, I betook myself 
 
 to linking 
 
18 THE DOVE. 
 
 Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this holy bird 
 
 of yore — 
 What this lovely, sweet, angelic, quaint, prophetic 
 
 bird of yore — 
 
 Meant by saying, " Evermore ! " 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Thus I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable 
 expressing, 
 
 Till the calm light from those mild eyes seem'd 
 to illume my bosom's core ; 
 
 Banishing all fear and sadness, bringing thither 
 peace and gladness. 
 
 Driving out surmise of madness, — lately coming 
 o'er and o'er, — 
 
 Madness casting dreadful shadow, — lately com- 
 ing o'er and o'er — 
 
 Shadow deep'ning evermore ! 
 
 XIV. 
 Then methought the air grew denser, perfumed 
 
 from an unseen censer, 
 Swung by seraphim, whose foot-falls tinkled on 
 
 the tufted floor. 
 
THE DOVE. 19 
 
 " Oh ! my soul, thy God hath heard thee, by these 
 
 angels and this bird He 
 Hath to sweetest hopes now stirr'd thee — hopes 
 
 of finding thy Annore 
 In the far-off land of spirits — of reunion with 
 
 Annore ! " 
 
 Quoth the dove, " For evermore! " 
 
 XV. 
 " Prophet," said I, " thing of glory ! prophet, as 
 
 in ancient story. 
 Whether sent from heaven directly, or by chance 
 
 cast here ashore. 
 Blessings many on thee rest now ! yea, thou 
 
 surely shalt be blest now ! 
 Come into my open'd breast now, — tell me truly, 
 
 I implore, 
 Is there a heav'n of rest and rapture ? tell me, 
 
 tell me, I implore ! " 
 
 Quoth the white bird, " Evermore ! " 
 
 XVI. 
 " Prophet," said I, " thing of glory ! prophet, as 
 in ancient story, 
 
20 THE DOVE. 
 
 By that Heav'n which bends above us — by the 
 God the good adore. 
 
 Tell this soul with hope upspringing — faith un- 
 dying to it bringing — 
 
 If that radiant matron singing midst the angels, 
 named Annore, 
 
 Shall be mine again to love — the sainted matron, 
 named Annore ? " 
 
 And the dove said, " Evermore ! " 
 
 XVII. 
 
 " Be that word thy sign of dwelling in my heart, — 
 
 of to it telling 
 Messages of love and mercy from the far-off 
 
 shining shore ; 
 Let thy white plumes be a token of the truth thy 
 
 soul hath spoken ; 
 Keep my faith and hope unbroken ; always perch 
 
 above my door; 
 Keep thy eyes' light in my heart ; and keep thy 
 
 form above my door ; " 
 
 Quoth the sweet bird, " Evermore ! " 
 
 I 
 
THE DOVE. 21 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 And the white dove, never flitting, still is sitting, 
 
 still is sitting 
 On the polish'd bust of Paulus, just above my 
 
 chamber-door ; 
 And his eyes with kindness beaming — holy 
 
 spirit's kindness seeming, — 
 And a soft light from him streaming, sheds its 
 
 radiance on the floor ; 
 And my glad soul in that radiance, that lies 
 
 floating on the floor, 
 
 Shall be basking — evermore ! 
 
CONCLUSION. 
 
 o>»<c 
 
 Thus, 
 From the shores of the sullen, waveless sea of 
 
 despair, 
 Which resound with refrain of the ravens' harsh 
 
 croakings, 
 And are haunted by ghosts of delights now de- 
 parted, 
 I would fain call your thoughts to the heav'nly 
 
 hills upward, 
 Where of Ages the Rock rises high and majestic. 
 And with cooing of doves midst its shelt'ring 
 clefts echoes. 
 
MRS. PHEBE ANNA SCOTT. 
 
 From the No7'fh Carolina Presbyterian of January ist, 
 1873, written by the Rev. J. W. Primrose, who was present 
 at her death. 
 
 Died : — On the loth of December, 1872, at Ridgeway, 
 Warren County, N. C, Mrs. Phebe Anna Scott, wife of 
 the Rev. Jno. W. Scott, D. D., LL. D., Professor in the 
 West Virginia University, and formerly President of 
 Washington College, Pa. 
 
 Mrs. Scott made North Carolina her home about four years 
 ago. During her short residence among us she made many 
 friends, who give her up with great reluctance. But her family 
 and friends mourn not as they who have no hope. Though her 
 last and fatal illness was sudden, and though the nature of her 
 malady — congestion of the brain — suffered no gleam of con- 
 sciousness, yet she was one who waited for the coming of her 
 Lord. She died in her 66th year, and for nearly half a century 
 had been a member of the Presbyterian Church, and an earnest 
 worker in the service of the Master. Her ardor was unabated 
 in the decline of life. Deprived of the religious privileges in 
 which she had been reared, and remote from regular ministra- 
 tions of the Presbyterian Church, she was a constant attendant 
 upon the monthly services of an Evangelist, and a faithful and 
 judicious teacher in the Methodist Sunday-school. What her 
 hands found to do, she did with her might; and for every labor 
 which she undertook she was well qualified both intellectually, 
 socially and spiritually. We would be glad to have many such 
 co-workers settle within the boundaries of our Southern Church, 
 and we can ill afford to lose this one whom God in his providence 
 has removed. Mi'S. Scott came of a long line of Presbyterian 
 ancestry. The house of her parents — the Hon. Robert and 
 Catharine Jenkins — was the resort of the ministiy. Windsor 
 Place is not unknown to some of our older preachers. Mrs. 
 Jenkins was well known for her Christian zeal in eveiy godly 
 enterprise. Mrs. Scott's maternal grandfather was the Rev. 
 Jno. Carmichael, who came when a boy from Scotland with his 
 parents in 1737. He declared that for generations back he 
 could claim the covenant blessings, and these he handed 
 down to children and grandchildren. Christ willed that this 
 heir of the promises should be with Him where He is, that she 
 
might behold His glory. Our heartiest sympathies are with the 
 bereaved husband and family, and our prayer is that they all 
 may meet by-and-by in that land where there is no parting, 
 neither any more death, nor sorrow. 
 
 The following is from the Presbytefian Wfc/cly, Phila- 
 delphia, December 26th, 1872, written by the editor, the 
 Rev. Alfred Nevin, D. D. 
 
 Died : — In Ridgeway, North Carolina, on the loth inst., 
 of congestion of the brain, Mrs. Phebe Anna, wife of the 
 Rev. J. W. Scott, D. D., and third daughter of the late 
 Hon. Robert Jenkins, of Windsor Place, Lancaster 
 County, Pa. 
 
 Early in life Mrs. Scott consecrated herself to the service of 
 the Saviour, and made a profession of her faith in the Cedar 
 Grove Presbyterian Clmrch, then enjoying the ministrations of 
 the Rev. Amri Babbitt. Her first history as a Christian was 
 reached by earnest zeal in the Sabbath-school cause. She estab- 
 lished several schools in destitute regions, near to her residence, 
 and labored with much ardor and self-sacrifice for the salvation 
 of the young.* Her piety, education, and social culture emi- 
 nently qualified her to adorn and make useful the new and im- 
 portant sphere and relations to which her marriage introduced 
 her. Her cheerful and hospitable spirit ever made her home 
 attractive. Strong affection for her kindred and friends was a 
 ruling element in her character. Her last illness was brief, and 
 its sad termination unexpected by her immediate family and nu- 
 merous friends, from whom, for the last few years, she had by 
 so great distance been separated ; but it cannot be doubted 
 that death found her ready for the exchange of earth for Heaven. 
 It is a consolation beyond estimate to those who weep on her 
 departure, that her consistent Christian life gives assurance of 
 her eternal salvation. 
 
 * When her remains reached the family burying-ground at Churchtown, Pa., 
 " Miss Betsy Kibler," a faithful assistant of Mrs. Scott in every good cause, 
 " long, long ago, when they two both were young," recalled the following little 
 but suggestive incident; "Fifty years ago she stopped at our house and 
 mended her gaiters, which had been torn in her vigorous walking from house 
 to house through the fields, in prosecuting her Sabbath-school work." 
 
 A Tery suggestive fact tliis, in the case of a young lady m her i6th year, 
 surrounded by the comforts and appliances of wealth. She was animated by 
 the same spirit during the remaining half century of her life, 
 
 2 
 
 XI 07 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
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