The Wilmingtonian., 1823-12-18
A SONG OF ROMANCE.

| SONG OF hOMhNCE.
bh, come to my sumber sweet dreams OF my love,
have hung the chsrm'd wreath my soft pillow
above.
|he roses are linked in chain pure and white /;
md the rose leaves are wet with the dew dropsI
4 of night.
rbe moon was on high as gather'd each flower Il
The dew that then falls has magical power.
The snirit of slumber those roses has blest;
ind sweet are the visions they'll bring to my rest
,e their smell on nv soul, so they let me but see
ljs dark ewes flash in love and his smile glance
on me-
et sleep bring the image ofhim far away;
Tis worth all the tears | shed for him by day.
have hung the charm'd wreath my soft pillow
above;
Then come to my slumber sweet dreams OF my
love.
A woman's and mothers heart alone could
have conceived, and possibly woman's pen only
could have pourtrayed, with such exquisite ten
i herness and truth as in the following lines, the
thousand nameless ties that bind mother to hel
Bhild. Immersed as men orthe most part are II
d business or in pleasure, mingllng i'll the active
cenes of life, and living it were abroad in thu
gorld, their affections, as well as their sorrows
j ire controlled or diverted by many afHicting oc
i urrences--and when grief for some heart rend
4 hg privaton seeks to indulge its holy and hal
( owing melancholy, cure is at hand, and the I'm
kprat Of lutxy tf,p
heck the gushing tear. Not so with woman
T. er life is one Of comparative secnsion-uoME
yer world-snd there she is to be seen, such a
happest hours she is imaged forth, by "youth
poets when they love-" When sorrow intrude
pom this scene, it becomes unbroken by othe
4 aims and dwells there alone and unntisated.
Hence it's, and from the early anxious but fon
hres which nature has exclusively allotted to tn
pother towards her offspring, that the poet
pstihed in saying,
There is none
all this cold and hollow world no fount
deep, strong, deathless love, save that with
mothers heart.
IL A MOTHERS LOVE.
rom the siege OF Valencia Dramatic Poem, b
Mrs. Hemans.
GONZALES. We have but
% bow the head in silence. when Heavens voic
pills back the things we love.
EMMA. Love love there are soft smile
and gentle words,
nd there are faces skilful to put on
he look we trust inland 'tis mockery all
A faithless mist, desert-vapour, wearing
he brightness Of clear waters thus to cheat
nethrst that semblance kindletl!-There is moi
all this cold and hollow world, no fount
deep, strong, deathless, love, save that with
mothers heart. 1t is but pride. where with
b his fair son the fathers eye doth turn,
d atching his growth. Ay, on the boy he looks
A he bright glad creature springing in the path,
i, 1t as the heir of his great name, the young
y I'D stately tree, whose rising strength ere lor
10 all bear his trophies wel.-And this is love !
IS This is mans love What marvel i-you ne'
\ made
a. pur breast the pillow of his infancy,
y, nile to the fullness of your hearts glad heavipe
" fair cheek rose and fell; and his bright ha
'n ayed softly to your breath You ne'er watch
the fslde him, till the last pale star had set
81 nd morn. all dazzling, as in triumph, broke
h, your dim weary eyes; not yours the face
W hch, early faded through fond care for him,
'p' mg DER his sleep, and, duly as Heavens ligi
rta as there to greet his wakening You me-
tet smooth'd
ss couch, ne'er sung him TO his rosy rest,
10, ught his last whisper whenhis voice from your
". learnd soft utterance: press'd your lip to h
le" hen fever parch'd it ; hush'd his wsyward erie
IN patient. vigilant, never.wearied love
tnese are woMES's tasks TN these her you
$ d a bloom Of cheek, and buoyancy OF heart,
, d SAY ~ from her all UNMARKED My boys my boy
Ian IN my affection born with all for this
wv ny were ye given mes"