Dropping untimely, while the sudden gleams
Glare from the mustering clouds whose blackness seems
Too swollen to hold its lightning from the trees.
Yet, in some lull of passion, when at last
These calm revolving moons that come and go--
Turning our months to years, they creep so slow--
Have brought us rest, the not unwelcome past
May flutter to thee through these leaflets, cast
On the wild winds that all around us blow.
May 1, 1861.


AGNES

The story of Sir Harry Frankland and Agnes Surriage is told in the
ballad with a very strict adhesion to the facts. These were obtained
from information afforded me by the Rev. Mr. Webster, of Hopkinton, in
company with whom I visited the Frankland Mansion in that town, then
standing; from a very interesting Memoir, by the Rev. Elias Nason, of
Medford; and from the manuscript diary of Sir Harry, or more properly
Sir Charles Henry Frankland, now in the library of the Massachusetts
Historical Society.

At the time of the visit referred to, old Julia was living, and on our
return we called at the house where she resided.--[She was living June
10, 1861, when this ballad was published]--Her account is little more
than paraphrased in the poem. If the incidents are treated with a
certain liberality at the close of the fifth part, the essential fact
that Agnes rescued Sir Harry from the ruins after the earthquake, and
their subsequent marriage as related, may be accepted as literal truth.