The Madisonian. [volume] (Washington City [i.e. Washington, D.C.]) 1837-1845, 1839-04-17
WHOLE NO. 2ls.

pearance when this was told her. The re-
collection Of that despairing look is forever
treasured in memory. In short time, how
ever, she spoke Of death calmly. ~ know
that am dying" she said one evening, " but
| am prepared | feel my breath growing
fainter, and must say that mine is not bit
ter fate. Perhaps my life would be long
fellowship of pain and sorrow, TO which the
grave is preferable. Yet cannot die with
out murmur. The valley where have so
often wandered, the tree under whose branches
have set. the flowers that have tended,
the stars that have watched. the mother
that have loved, the father whose eye has
frightened at my approach, ah il is a bitter
thing to part with them, TO bid adieu TO all |
love on earth, and sink into the grave with
none to gladden. me but il must be so.
The next day was the Sabbath. arrived
at the cottage early. The stars had faded
one by one from the sky, and the sun was
just rising over the dim and distant mountains.
The dew covered scythe lay untouched on
the grass the laboring bee had not yet left
Its golden hive. All was silent; not a
breath stirred the slumbering leaves, or the
dropping flowers The old forest and the
rushing stream were
aQuiet as nun,
N Breathless with alteration"
stole softly into the room. There lay the
cottage girl with her head buried in the pillow,
and her hair failing in carelers clusters upon
her bosom. Alas the breath was stilled !;
the eye had looked its last upon earth. The
garlands Of life had been sundered, and her
gentle spirit had passed to its far home in
lad har
pleasant place. The stream on whose grassy
banks she had spent the April Of her life,
passes by her grave, and the old trees be-
meath which rang her merry laugh, over
shadow it like temple. And often have |
left the noise and strife of the living world
around me, and sought that quiet grave, from
which has arisen a whisper of something
dearer than all this wide and tecming earth
the whisper Of an Immortality beyond the
tomb.
have belleld woman in many scene.
have seen her when she first treads the paths
Of pleasure, as her eye trcmbled and her
cheek was flushed with hope have seen
her versed in all the pagentry of fashion, in
the halls Of mirth, painting for conquest. and
eager for praise; in the still night through
glade and by watch fire, have wandered
with beauty at my side, and by the curtained
bed have viewed her ministering to the
sick, and to the dying breathing words which
fall upon the ear like choirest music. have
seen loneliness in all its angel forms, yet
never did it awaken such thrill as when
first beheld the fair girl of whom / have
spoken. But in her young years, with her
affections still unwithered, she had been
stricken down. And such is life flower
springs up, gives out its fragrance for mo-
ment, and then passes away, leaving no trace
Of its beauty on the dead waste of years.
Alas it is nature TO yearn, from our birth
after congenial spirit-a heart to cling to
through the dreary day, and breast to rest
upon in the still watches of the night. We
sicken for an echo Of the heart, until the
tomb has closed our pilgrimage upon earth.
Beauty at thy shrine we breathe the purest
worship of the heart; awhile the great ocean
Of life is calm, the tempest comes, the bark
is shattered, the hopes tina, dawncd upon the
soul disappear in the sable gloom of death.