Lynchburg Virginian. [volume] (Lynchburg [Va.]) 1829-185?, 1833-08-15
MlStElLAN ELDUS.

FT0M III UNHy TOY I'ft5S.
hIDNlGtI l. MUSINGS.


am lover of the midnight hour. love 10 sit
ON Al cIondiess summer night, watching the heav
Gus clustered wllh trenu,ous stars | love to caz
upon the serene queen OF night, as she progresses
nlong the azure vault, shedding floods of mellow
Aght upon L world below The effect is mag. Il q
s9bung Every dung that Is touched by her sll-
very beams 10 softcned and ethcreaA2ed. Then
the soul sympdthses with the grandeur that ia turc
displays.
10 ms there IS nothln. sublime and impress
slse, as tie Silent AMI quit midnight hour-and
rehe't hat IN thus deep and universal hulk the stu
pendous globe and the vast number Of heshigg
worlds that stud the blue canopy Of heaven, are
peror ing their various revolutions under the guid
ance and direction of Hinlat whose fiat they sprang
INTO existence. At such time The soul is olsen
gagged from every artificial excitement, and am op-
portuny s afforded for ii to speak lis own bold and
original language.
Society hulh It's charms. There is pleasure
in the flush and glare of fashion and beauty and
under their III Hing influences, those nth UNIV ill-
red hopes and unblastcd "a pcctatlons may tread
boldly on--But It seems 10 me- that if Ly some I'M
TOWARD accident, the couvlruon should fnsirn
upon me that my last hour had com lshould relu r,
no sublImer preparation, than time spent in the par
iect sohtnde-the vastness, the grandeur, and glory
81 the midnight hustled quiet, booutial ll,duishtl
l.
and over the eott-npou the deserted street, aud
upon The temples Of the living God Is not this a
dream 7 Will II appear Otherwise when the day
H. ht shall have coma when We shall 40 out and
pursue the ordinary routine Of business and the
street that is now deserted, hall tremblc as the
wheels thunder furiousiy over 1t, and its dusty
tracks he thfe"ged with aVancious men, crying mo
ney money. VIII thjs dim moonlight hour ap-
pear to us then any more than dleam
And indeed, what is our life, but dream An !
It's nothing more. lie, who bot yesterday royed
the forest wlth us gathering wid Aowers listen
ng to the songs of birds, watching the brock
bright aud sunny daughter of the h-leaping and
bounding in It's joyous way along the banks OF
emerad-pourmg over the tiny cataract lis bright
waters sparkn. in the sun hsht--meande rlng
through the vale, I'll it finally loses itself in the DO
som of he sihcry lake has had his LIES blood
chilled by the touch of the cold and bony finger OF
death. What is left of him-but a dream
She, by whose side we used to spend our leisure
hours whose presence was our joy whose smile
our happiness whose eye was not exceeded IN
brightness by the eye Of the gazeIie whose sylph-
like form was unrvaled for beauty and symme-
ry-has departed DOES she seem aught but a
dream I
She who once loved uswhose eye followed our
every movement with tenderness and anxiety-up-
on whose breast We recllned-from whose lips we
received instruction, and by whose knee we used
10 say our evening prayer, rests upon her lowly
pllow.-Does she not seem as vision, the recol-
lection of which is pleasing yet mournfu
Hank ! the clock strikes oae--two. Does the
breeze watt the sound to other ears Who also be-
side now awake
The student, upon whose pale brow the cold
swea, stands whose blood shot eve tells of deep
and intense thought, is now porting over his books
regardless of present ease-hoping for future
fame.
But alas all the treasures acknowledge which he
has for years been laying up may be destroyed 10
morrow by the breath OF the monster
And the dcbauchee stretched bed Of flame
through whose veins the mad fever runs-whose
burning temples are kissed by the breezes in mock
cry.