The Wilmingtonian, and Delaware advertiser., 1827-01-18

gainst his country; the eloquent yindication
of his name; and his pathetic appeal to pos
terity in the hopeless hour Of contemplation;
all these entered deeply into every generous
bosom, and even his opponents lamented the
stern policy that dictated his execution.
But there was one heart whose anguish it
would be impossible to describe. In haPpi-
er days and fairer fortunes he had won the
affections OF beautiful and interesting girl,
the daughter of the late celebrated Irish
barrister. She loved him with the disiuter-
ested fervor of a woman's first and early
love. When every worldly maxim arrayed
itself against him, when blasted in fortune.
and disgrace and danger darkened around
his name, she loved him the more ardently
for his sufferings. Since his fate could a.
waken sympathy even of his foes, what must
have been the agony of her, whose soul was
occupied by his image? Let those tell who
have had the portals of the tomb suddenly
closed between them and the being they
most loved ON earth; who have sat at its
threshold, as one shut out in cold and lcne-
ly world, whence all that was lovely and low
ing had departed.
To render her widowed situation more
desolate, she had incurred her fathers dis
pleasure by her unfortunate attachment,
and was an exile from the paternal roof
But could the sympathy and kind offices OF
friends have reached spirit so shocked and
driven in by horror, she would have expert
enced no want of consolation, for the Irish
are people of quick and generous sensibili-
ties. The most delicate and cherishing at
tentions were paid her by families of wealth
| and distinction.--She was led into society,
and they tried all kinds of occupation and
amusement, to dissipate her grief, wean her
from the tragical story of her love, but all
was in vain! There are some strokes of ca
lamity that scathe and scorch the soul--that
penetrate to the vital seat of happiness, and
blast it, never again to put forth bud or blos-
som. She never objected to frequent the
haunts OF otpleasure; but she was as much a.
lone there as in the depths Of Solitude. She
| carried with her an inward woe, that mock
ed all the Establishments of friendship, and
"heeded not the song of the charmer; charm
lie ever so wisely"
The person, says the eloquent author Of
the Sketch Book, who told me her storys
had seen her at masquerade. After STROLL
ing through the splendid rooms and giddy
crowd, with an air of utter abstraction, she
sat herself down on the steps of an orchestra,
and looking about for some time with va
cant air, that showed her insensbility tsthe
garlsh scene, she began with the capricious-
ness of heart, to warble a little plaintive air.
She had an exquisite voice; but on this occa-
sion was so simple, so touching, it breathed
forth such soul of wretchedness that sh~
drew crowd, mute and silent are..iio her.
and melted every one into tears.
The story of one SO true and tender, could
not but excite great interest in a country re-
markable for enthusiasm. 1t completely
won the heart OF a brave officer, who paid
his addresses to her, and thought that one SO
! t,u,a to tbaf RI ..J J,,.
tomato to the living. She declined his atten-
tions, tor her thoughts were rrevocably en-
crossed by the memory of her former lover.
He solicited not her tenderness, but her es-
TEEN. lie was assisted by her conviction Of
his worth, and her sense OF her own destitute
and dependant situation, for she was exist
ing on the kindness of friends In word
he at length succeeded in gaining her hand,
/ though with a solemn assurance that her
heart was unalterably anothcr's.
| He took her with him to Sicily, heping
that change of scene might wear out the
remembrance of early woes. She was an
amiable and exemplary wife, and made an
effort to be happy one; but nothing could
cure the silent melancholy that had entered
into her very soul. She wasted away in q
slow but hopeless decline, and at last sunk
into the grave, the victim of a broken heart.
~ "Ho va t'io tooJ, tuae AFAOOiC SoNlPOaS
ed the following lines:
She is fur from the land where her young hero
sleeps,
| And lovers around her are signing;
But codly she turns from their gaze and weeps.
For her heart in his grave is lying
She sings the wild song of her dear native plains,
! Every note which he lov'd awaking;
All! little they think, who delight in her strains,
I How the heart Of the minstrel is breaking!
lie had lived for his love-for his country he
died,
They were all that to life had entwn'd him,
Nor soon shall the tears Of his country DC dried.
Nor long will his love stay behind ln''
OH make her grave whore the s,nbeams rest,
When they promise glorious mor"ow;
They'll slime Ger her sleep, like smile from the
1 west,
From her own loy'd Island of sorrow!
A PROFLIGATE PIG.
~. ,rnaeI.v a Dersou living in Maidstone