Delaware gazette and American watchman. [volume] (Wilmington, Del.) 1828-1837, 1831-05-20
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,rs painting of Otheoaqd Nl9aA. ieiy pxerntel
in oil, BY the author relHeaeptng Desdemona asleep
in bed and othcllo, muddcned With jealousy, stand
ing at her bed side, meditating her destruction.
There lies the lovely Dosdemona, wram
In slumber and habiments not whittier
Than the unsully'd purity other fame. es
How calmly sleeps the beautiful wilc nor dreams
OfCassio's love, nor ofth dreadful hell
That RACES in the madden'd brain and breast
Ofdark Othelb. Therehe stands the Moor,
The noble Moor, drawn by the master hand
Oh mighty Shakespeare--ther0 he stands in gloom,
OF gazing on the sleeping beauty, smiling
AS some sweet dream other Otlelo'B love,
Steals DER her guiltless heart-nnd of he turns
His face away, mad with conflicting thoughts,
That one SO fair, so beautiful should be
Her sex's shame, and the sport of every villain
The thought death-onco mure he looks upon her
The placid sweetness other Sleep steals DER
His half relentng hearl--but then she smiles,
AS ifcarressng Casslo-hell again
Is narrowing up his heart; that heart which holds
So strange a compound Of our weaker nature,
And nobler qualities, and high resolves.
How strange that man should seek to know & think
That true which must destroy his pence, and rob
HIS hopes Of happiness, ond even Of ieaveni
Blighting his heart forever.
There still he stands and OIL his burning brow
One hand is spread, as ifto hide from him
The fell conviction Of her guilt which yet
He fain would know-the other with grip
Ola relentless tiger, grasps the kilt
Ofhis bright starting blade; that sword which reapd
The rich ripe harvest Of his fame in fields
Ofglorious battle, the sad tale Of which
Had won the gentle heart of Desdemons.
She dreams again, and breathes Of gentle love
She bears the Moor--again his proud high heart.
Like wax is melted in the noon-dny sun,
And all the love he bore her streams fresh.
From bis oeraowing eyes--methinks ses
The Jealous Moor advance aud steal kiss,
From lips that neer BY Other lips ptTa press'd,
And where loves roses lingss. The thought agEin
Whcnsle gave up Tie handke CHIEF tho pledge
Ofconstancy eternal aud agoin
lagos words are sounding in his care,
Making her guilt SO palpa5le, he sees,
Or thinks no sees the very stain Of sin
Left on her laughing lip. Ay, smiling now
Even at the agony and hell he suffers.
Methiuks see his brown and brawny arm
Unsheathe the glittering blade, and rush beside
The sleeping Desdemona,-he throws back
The veil that half c0nceas her blushing face,
And beautiful bosom DER which herdark hair
Is scattered in rich ringleis High abovo
The sword is aim'd, ay, at the gentle heart
Which beats alone for him. He weep5 TO think
That aueht so lovely and so pure without
| Should be dston'd with blood; o'ercome he falls
| And hides his face in her soft snowy bosom
! Where oft he few to hide himself from sorrow.
/ The gentle Desdemona wakes and starts
With all q hgh-soul'd woman's scorn and pride,
From the dread charge by woman dreaded more
Than death in It's worst form--her lovely cheek
| CLOVIS with a conscious innocence, her eye
Her large dark eye flashes with Indignation
| The Jealous Moor mistakes the purer glow
Il Ofvrtuous beauty for the blush Of shame,
| The fires OF Hell arc raging in his eyes,
Dishonor, like spectre. haunts him now
| And see, ahl see, the beautiful, the pure,
And charming Dcsdemonia wrthes in DEATH
The victim ola villains vicious lies,
And the Moor's jealousy, that passion vile
Which many seek TO feel taste OF which
Posons the pure affections Of the heart,
. l.
-A'' p'''sD MILFORD BARD.