Herald of the times. [volume] (Newport, R.I.) 1830-1846, 1834-01-02

As f ordained to inspire tranquility,
And I'll the soul with sentiments benign.
How far from me is swee; tranquility;
And no blest balm Of consolation doh
Iniuse content, alas. but tOIturing pains
And pangs incessant, unabating, shoot
Their keen infections; whilst my burning brain,
Forehodng thoughts and dread contentious rack:
Each slender fibre thrills with horror wild;
UnnuInberea flaments, tenacous OF
New woe, catch and convey, through the whole
Game,
The dire disorder. Gentle sleep has flown;
Nor dares revisit this assemblage strange
OF pains and black despair. IA vain | strive,
by every art prelusive, to regain
Ills power reluctant, to apPease this strife
OF mind and body; and once more to breathe
The soothing quiet Of his balmy rest
In vain close my eyes, that on my lids
Ills kindly influence softly may alighl;
And fast retain them till, through AIN my frame,
His power restoring, re-illume faint life,
And balm all-heang, vigor new create.
But poignant pangs vindctively expel
The soft restorer, and preclude his aid;
While the tired, watching eyes wander about,
In search Of objects to relieve the gloom
or inward anguish; none appear. The lamps
Pale glmmerng light, an emblem sad and true
OF lile's faint, iickering spark within me, gives;
And from the indulated walls, Despair,
Grim-visageG, beckons, that his dismal port
May the wild glance engage, and penetrate
The dim, recoiling Visions aching sense.
| The soul-ah me, these agonzing thrills,
These wild commotons and insatate pains
When banished Natures great supporter, how
Can Natare bear this dread conspiracy
OF ills unnumbered' Yet, so long as flow
The family circulating streams Of life,
Dear is thy dreary gloom, o night. to me.
Though rest hath vanish d from thy ling ring hours
And grieis augmenting, cause convulsve starts,
That make me quickly turn from side to side,
Fatisued and faintng with the frequent task;
Yet thou art welcome still, and thy deep tones,
That sigh congenial sadness from the wind,
Whether in whispers soft it moan around,
Or iercer breathe its strong, impetuous power;
When the far moon her aspect mild displays
| Amid the silence Of the twinkling star;
Or when obscured by thick and sombre clouds;
Night, still thou ever art more dear 70 me,
Than all the glores of the rising day.
The soft and varying rays of mingling hues,
{ That blend in changeiul beauty, and adorn
! The placid azure-and the Aeecy clouds,
That buoyant, sail upon the balmy air.
The joyous music Of the harmonious choir,
When first they gaiy tune their magic song,
Replete with artless melody and love,
Can soothe and charm no more; nor social SCUM
. OF cheerful voices, nor the busy scenes
,, OF active, happy life, have aught for me
, More Of sweet pleasure in them. Mingling sount
f Perple1 me; and tho sight Of joyful beings
Thrills the chill feeling through my tortured breas
= That shall never more again enjoy
t Those dear delights. The tranquil happiness
. That mildly shone on my past life, is now
t Forever fed; the gay and beauteous scenes
+ or smiling Nature, that with health and joy
, The heart relume, can me delight no more;-
For sadness rules, and &inting life begins
To sink beneath the overwhelming weigh,
: OF hopeless anguish, that admits no cure. c. T.