Obrazy na stronie
PDF
ePub

210

POSTSCRIPT AND DEDICATION.

a pattern for my Frederica's imitation-a pattern which she might nearly be said to equal. To whom but to thee,

MOST EXCELLENT, MOST AMIABLE

MADAME ROSE,

To thee who wast a mother to us, at a time when we were far removed from our natural mother!—Oh, how solacing to the heart is it to acknowledge kindness that has been deeply felt!

Alas! thy daughter rests in her long last sleep !— Oh, do not cast from thee thy forsaken son!-Thy daughter now repeats thy name with gratitude before the throne of God! She kneels to the fountain of eternal light, holding her Maurice by the hand!-her good, her worthy Maurice! Both beg a blessing upon thee, and my prayer ascends to mix with the intercessions and rejoicings of the blessed.

AUGUSTUS VON KOTZEBUE.

END OF THE FLIGHT TO PARIS.

THE

MOST REMARKABLE YEAR

IN

THE LIFE

OF

AUGUSTUS VON KOTZEBUE;

CONTAINING AN ACCOUNT OF

HIS EXILE INTO SIBERIA,

AND OF

THE OTHER EXTRAORDINARY EVENTS WHICH HAPPENED

TO HIM IN RUSSIA.

DEDICATION.

To my noble and generous Protectors,—his excellency M. de KUSCHELEFF, Counsellor of State, and Governor of Tobolsk; his excellency M. de RICHTER, Counsellor of State, and Governor of Livonia ;-to my noble and generous Friends in the hour of need, Madmae LÖWENSTERN (formerly Mademoiselle de Bayer) at Wolmershoff; M. ECHARDT, Secretary to the Regency of Riga; M. PROVOST KOCH, and his respectable Lady, at Jesse; M. DE KNORRING, Provincial of the Chamber, and his worthy Lady, at Charlottenthal; M. SECRETARY HUEK, at Revel; and M. CHARLES GEORGE GRAUMANN, at Petersburgh.

Nor brass nor marble bears your honour'd names;
My glowing heart the fair inscription claims.
Deep-grav'd it lies, to grateful mem'ry true,
For ever legible, for ever new!

Your gen'rous succour pierced Siberia's gloom,
And snatch'd the Exile from the darksome tomb;
Restor❜d the charm that soothes and sweetens life,
The smiling offspring, and the gladden'd wife.
A theme like this demands no lofty lay;
Let simple truth the noble deed display!
And tho' whate'er I write may ill withstand
The ruthless stroke of time's destructive hand-
The grateful muse shall from oblivion steal
The votive line that speaks how much I feel!

« PoprzedniaDalej »