In the quietness of the hour
When the birds of dawn slumbered
In the stillness of the night
When the world was in darkness

Death came again
Unnoticed, unwelcome and unknown
With his ancient axe of cruelty
Ready to vanquish and conquer
Everywhere he goes
He lives a message of sorrow behind
All that accompanies him  never returns
Sometimes a young tender child
Another time a bright blossoming youth

This time, my dear friend is your victim

He was a dreamer boy
He is too needed to be gone

O death! When will you see the evil you've done
The hot tears your injustice has done
The broken hearts of the bereaved will never mend
Even if they get used to this tragedy
They will never forget nor forgive how you shattered them

A brilliant soul is gone
Forever from this cruel world
REST IN PEACE
That may be the last I will say to you
But not the last I will say of you

© Olatuja Oloyede

Tribute to My Grandmother Who Died Today

Death do not boast
Mama is not gone
Her spirit is in our hearts
Are prayers are the bracelets of our wrists
Her voice echoes in our ears

How can you take away
The one mightier than you
Why do you wait this long
If you were not such a coward
They say Iyaloye is gone?
No, there is something she left behind
Something she buried
In the greyness of her age
It is that wisdom
That blackens the teeth of the elders
It is the legacy of honesty
The virtue of diligence
The secret of greatness
Death has made her richer
Death is a loser again
And I know that mama is not gone
She is the Angel
That will always visit my dreams
And the great woman that will always live in my heart
Mama.... Rest in Peace

©Olatuja Oloyede

Albert (Francis-Augustus-Charles-Emmanuel, Prince of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha. He married Queen Victoria, his cousin, the tenth of February, 1840), 1819-1861. "I have had wealth, rank andpower, but if these were all I had, how wretched I should be!" A few moments later he repeated the familiar lines:

Rock of Ages cleft for me,Let me hide myself in Thee.

Inscription on the "Memorial Cairn" on a high mountain overlooking Balmoral Palace: "To the beloved memory of Albert the great and good Prince Consort, erected by his broken-hearted widow, Victoria R., 21 August, 1862." Upon another dressed slab, a few inches below the above, is this quotation: "He being made perfect in a short time, fulfilled a long time: for his soul pleased the Lord, therefore hasted he to take him away from among the wicked."

Wisdom of Solomon, chap. iv: 13, 14.

One year after Prince Albert died, the Queen erected a costly mausoleum in the grounds of Frogmore House, which is legally a part of the domain of Windsor Castle. The mausoleum is cruciform, eighty feet long, with transepts of seventy feet. As soon as it was completed and consecrated by the Bishop of Oxford, the remains of the Prince Consort were there deposited. Over the entrance is a Latin inscription, which in English reads as follows:

WHAT WAS MORTAL OF PRINCE ALBERT
HIS MOURNING WIDOW, QUEEN VICTORIA,
HAS CAUSED TO BE DEPOSITED IN THIS SEPULCHER.
FAREWELL, MY WELL BELOVED!
HERE AT LAST SHALL I REST WITH THEE.
WITH THEE IN CHRIST SHALL RISE AGAIN.

Anselm ("Saint," Archbishop of Canterbury), 1034-1109. "I shall gladly obey His call; yet I should also feel grateful if He would grant me a little longer time with you, and if I could be permitted to solve a question—the origin of the soul."

Bacon (Francis, Baron Verulam, Viscount St. Albans), 1561-1626. "Thy creatures, O Lord, have been my books, but Thy Holy Scriptures much more. I have sought Thee in the fields and gardens, but I have found Thee, O God, in Thy Sanctuary—Thy Temple."

"In March, 1626, he came to London, and one day near Highgate was taken with a desire to discover whether snow would act as an antiseptic. He stopped his carriage, got out at a cottage, purchased a fowl, and with his own hands assisted to stuff it with snow. He was seized with a sudden chill and became so seriously unwell that he had to be conveyed to Lord Arundel's house near by. There his illness increased, and he died of bronchitis after a few days of suffering."—Encyclopedia Britannica.

For my burial, I desire it may be in St. Michael's Church, St. Albans; there was my mother buried, and it is the parish church of my mansion-house of Gorhambury, and it is the only Christian Church within the walls of Old Verulam. For my name and memory, I leave it to men's charitable speeches, to foreign nations and the next ages.

From the Will of Lord Bacon.

Andronicus I. (Comnenus, usurper and emperor), 1115-1185. "Lord, have mercy upon me. Wilt thou break a bruised reed?"

So great was his cruelty and so oppressive his tyranny, that his own subjects rose in desperation and slew him.

Adrian or Hadrian (Publius Ælius, the Roman Emperor), 76-138. "O my poor soul, whither art thou going?"

Adrian wrote both in Greek and Latin. Among his Latin poems (preserved by Spartianus, who wrote his life), are these lines addressed to his own soul:

Animula vagula blandula,Hospes comesque corporis,Quæ nunc abibis in loca?Pallidula, rigida, nudula,Nec, ut soles, dabis jocos.

Soul of me! floating and flitting, and fond!Thou and this body were house-mates together;Wilt thou begone now, and whither?Pallid, and naked, and cold;Not to laugh, nor be glad, as of old.

Adrian is known in history as one of the greatest of the Roman Emperors. It is hardly too much to say that, by his progress through all the provinces and his policy of peace, he was the consolidater of the empire founded a century and a half before by Augustus. He was the author of the Roman Wall between England and Scotland; he beautified the city of Athens; he founded the modern Adrianople; he built for his own mausoleum what is now the Castle of St. Anglo at Rome. He was also a patron of the fine arts and of literature.

Of the famous lines, "The Dying Adrian's Address to His Soul," no fewer than one hundred and sixteen translations into English have been collected, the translators including Pope, Prior, Byron, Dean Merivale, and the late Earl of Carnarvon. It should be added that Pope's familiar version, beginning "Vital spark of heav'nly flame," is a paraphrase rather than a translation. I quote Prior's version:

"Poor little, quivering, fluttering thing,Must we no longer live together?And dost thou prune thy trembling wing,To take thy flight thou know'st not whither?

"Thy humorous vein, thy pleasing follyLie all neglected, all forgot:And pensive, wavering, melancholy,Thou dread'st and hop'st thou know'st not what."

This is the only certain composition of Adrian that has been preserved, though he is reported to have attempted many forms of literature. The authenticity of a letter ascribed to him with a reference to the Christians, is open to grave doubt. But now the sands of Egypt, which are daily yielding up so many secrets of antiquity, have given us what purports to be a private letter addressed by the Emperor Adrian to his successor, Antoninus Pius, and—what is more interesting—it is written, like the address to his soul, in view of his approaching death. Unfortunately the papyrus is very fragmentary, but its general meaning seems clear. We have evidently only the commencement of an elaborate epistle. After the assertion that his death is neither unexpected, nor lamentable, nor unreasonable, he says that he is prepared to die, though he misses his correspondent's presence and loving care. He goes on:

"I do not intend to give the conventional reasons of philosophy for this attitude, but to make a plain statement of facts.... My father by birth died at the age of forty, a private person, so that I have lived more than half as long again as my father, and have reached about the same age as that of my mother when she died."

All this accords with the known facts about Adrian. He died at the age of sixty-two, after a long illness, during which he was assiduously tended by Antoninus. Just before the end he withdrew to Baiae, leaving Antoninus in charge at Rome. His father had died when his son was ten years old; of his mother we know nothing. Prima facie, there is no improbability that letters of Adrian should be in circulation in Egypt, which he visited at least once. His freedman Phlegon is reported to have published a collection of them after his death.

On the other hand, it should be frankly admitted that some suspicious circumstances attach to the letter. Of the antiquity of the papyrus there is no doubt, for the handwriting cannot be later than the end of the second centurya. d., bringing it within sixty years (at farthest) from Adrian's death. But it is written as a school exercise on the back of a taxing-list, which naturally gives rise to the suspicion that it may be merely the composition of the schoolmaster. The actual form of the document is interesting. At the top are about fifteen lines, written in a clear cursive, or running, hand. Below, the first five lines are repeated in large, irregular uncials, or capital letters. It is impossible not to recognize here an exercise set by a schoolmaster and a copy begun by a pupil.

The papyrus is one of the many found by Messrs. Grenfell and Hunt while excavating in the Fayoum on account of the Egypt Exploration Fund, and appears in the volume issued by the Græco-Roman Branch of Egypt Exploration Fund, called "Fayoum Towns and Their Papyri."

J. S. Cotton in Biblia for November, 1900.

Agrippina (mother of the Emperor Nero. She was one of the worst of women, and was condemned to death by her own son),—60. "Strike here! Level your rage against the womb which gave birth to such a monster." These words she said, placing her hand over her womb, to the man sent to dispatch her.

Anthony or Antony ("Saint," surnamed Abbas, the reputed founder of monachism), 251-356. "Let this word of mine be kept by you, so that no one shall know in what place my body reposes, for I shall receive it incorruptible from my Saviour in the resurrection of the dead. And distribute my garments thus: To Athanasius, the bishop, give one of my sheepskins, and the cloak under me, which was new when he gave it me, and has become old by my use of it; and to Serapion, the bishop, give the other sheepskin; and do you have the hair-cloth garment. And for the rest, children, farewell, for Anthony is going, and is with you no more."

Ambrose ("Saint," Latin Father, author of many books of varying value and interest, and author of a method of singing known as "the Ambrosian Chant"), 340-397. "I have not so behaved myself that I should be ashamed to live; nor am I afraid to die, because I have so good a Master."

Alford (Henry, commonly called "Dean Alford," English poet and divine, Dean of Canterbury), 1810-1871. "Will you tell the Archdeacon?—will you move a vote of thanks for his kindness in performing the ceremony?" He wished the Archdeacon to assist in the services at his funeral.

He had expressed a wish to be buried in St. Martin's churchyard. The spot chosen for his grave is beneath a yew-tree on the brow of the hill on the south side of the path which leads from the lich-gate to the western door of the ancient church. At the distance of about half a mile to the west the towers of the Cathedral look down upon his tomb.

Among his papers was found the following memorandum, which, of course, was carefully obeyed:

"When I am gone, and a tomb is to be put up, let there be, besides any indication of who is lying below, these words, and these only:

DEVERSORIUM VIATORIS HIEROSOLYMAM PROFICISCENTIS.

i. e., the inn of a traveller on his way to Jerusalem."

Agrippa (Henricus Cornelius, German physician, theologian and astrologer, skilled in alchemy and occult sciences), 1486-1535. "Begone, thou wretched beast, which hast utterly undone me." The story is that he was always accompanied by a devil in the shape of a black dog. When he perceived that death was near he wished, by repentance, to free his soul from the guilt of witchcraft, and so took off the collar from his dog's neck. This collar was covered with magical characters. As he removed the collar he muttered these, his last words: "Begone, thou wretched beast, which hast utterly undone me." The familiar dog disappeared with Agrippa's death, and was never more seen. This curious story was for a long time believed by the common people, and is to be found in one form or another in many old books.

Agrippa lectured on theology at Cologne, Pisa, Turin, and Pavia, and practiced medicine in France. Henry VIII. invited him to England, but he preferred the court of Margaret of Austria, regent of the Low Countries. He died poor, leaving behind him a number of books, and among them "On the Vanity of the Sciences," which has been translated into English and other languages

Aram (Eugene, executed for the murder of Daniel Clark. The story of Eugene Aram forms the subject of one of Bulwer's novels, and of a poem by Thomas Hood), 1704-1759. "No," on being asked upon the scaffold if he had anything to say.

While acting as an assistant to his father, who was a gardener, he studied mathematics and gave some attention to the languages. On marrying, he became a schoolmaster, and prosecuted his studies with such diligence and success as to obtain a good knowledge of the Latin, Greek, Hebrew, Chaldee, Arabic, Welsh and Irish languages. In 1759 he was tried for the murder of Daniel Clark, a shoemaker of Knaresborough, and found guilty. At the trial he made an elaborate and able defence, but after his condemnation he confessed his guilt. On the night before his execution he made an attempt to commit suicide, by opening the veins of his arms; but he was discovered before he had bled to death, and the sentence of the law was carried into effect.—Lippincott.

paper containing aram's reasons for attempting suicide, found on the table in his cell.

"What am I better than my fathers? To die is natural and necessary. Perfectly sensible of this, I fear no more to die than I did to be born. But the manner of it is something which should, in my opinion, be decent and manly. I think I have regarded both these points. Certainly nobody has a better right to dispose of a man's life than himself; and he, not others, should determine how. As for any indignities offered to my body, or silly reflections on my faith and morals, they are (as they always were) things indifferent to me. I think, though contrary to the common way of thinking, I wrong no man by this, and hope it is not offensive to that Eternal Being that formed me and the world; and as by this I injure no man, no man can be reasonably offended. I solicitously recommend myself to the Eternal and Almighty Being, the God of Nature, if I have done amiss. But perhaps I have not; and I hope this thing will never be imputed to me. Though I am now stained by malevolence, and suffer by prejudice, I hope to rise fair and unblemished. My life was not polluted, my morals irreproachable, and my opinions orthodox.

"I slept soundly till three o'clock, awaked, and then writ these lines:

"Come pleasing rest, eternal slumber fall,Seal mine, that once must seal the eyes of all;Calm and compos'd my soul her journey takes,No guilt that troubles, and no heart that aches:Adieu! thou sun, all bright like her arise;Adieu! fair friends, and all that's good and wise."

Baxter (Richard, noted English nonconformist, author of "The Saints' Everlasting Rest," and "The Call to the Unconverted"), 1615-1691. "I have pain—there is no arguing against sense—but I have peace, I have peace!" A little later he said, "I am almost well."

Barneveldt (Johan van Olden, Dutch statesman of liberal principles greatly in advance of his age. He has been called "the father of Dutch freedom and religious liberty." He was beheaded at the Hague in his seventy-first year, and met his fate without regret or a sign of fear), 1549-1619. "Oh God, what then is man!" Some say his last words were these, addressed to the executioners: "Be quick about it. Be quick."

Ames (Fisher, distinguished American statesman, leader of the Federal party in the House of Representatives during the administration of Washington), 1758-1808. "I have peace of mind. It may arise from stupidity, but I think it is founded on a belief of the gospel. My hope is in the mercy of God."

Battie (William, English physician), 1704-1776. "Young man, you have heard, no doubt, how great are the terrors of death: this night will probably afford you some experience; but you may learn, and may you profit by the example, that a conscientious endeavor to perform his duties through life, will ever close a Christian's eyes with comfort and tranquillity," to his servant.

Bailly (Jean Sylvain, French astronomer and philosopher, first President of the States-General, and later a victim of the Revolution), 1736-1793. "My friend, it is only from cold," to one of the bystanders who, witnessing the refinement of cruelty attending his execution, said, "Bailly, you tremble."

He was led on foot, amidst a drenching fall of snow and sleet, to the banks of the river, where, to parody the scene on Calvary, the heavy beams which support the guillotine were placed on his shoulders. He sank under the weight, but barbarous blows obliged him again to lift it. He fell a second time, and swooned away; yells of laughter arose in the crowd, and the execution was postponed till he revived, and could feel its bitterness. But nothing could subdue his courage. "You tremble, Bailly," said one of the spectators. "My friend," said the old man, "it is only from cold."

Bede (surnamed "The Venerable;" an English monk, and the author of "Historia Ecclesiastica Gentis Anglorum"), 673-735. "Glory be to the Father, and to the Son and to the Holy Ghost."

It is related that on the night of his death he continued dictating to his amanuensis a translation of some work, probably of the gospel of St. John, into Anglo-Saxon. He asked the scribe how many chapters remained. "Only one," he replied; "but you are too weak to dictate." "No," said Bede, "take your pen and write quickly." After some time the scribe said, "Master, it is finished;" to which Bede replied, "Thou hast said truly, consummatum est," and shortly after expired.

Lippincott.