Bloomington herald. [volume] (Bloomington, I. T. [Iowa]) 1840-1849, 1841-09-17
THOUGHTS ON LOVE.

As this is an age OF wonders, as well In the
world of romance and love, as in the political
world-what more fit for the times, and pleas
ing to the ladies', aye, and the gentleman too,
than short dissertation on love
Love is Heaven, and Heaven is love!
Born in passion, fed with smiles,
Graded in maiden's eyes.
So saws the poet, and SO say all who have
passed the ordeal Of reqnited love. Love Is
empha,caly the offspring of passion! waring
with reason from its first existence. It's true,
we are told, that Love and Reason once took
walk together, and that Love-unwIlling to
listen TO the timely advice of Reason, fell into
MANY snares and vexalicus troubles. and at last
sunk into the gloomy confines of sorrow and
despair But this is one of Reasons decep-
tive tales. Love might have fallen into snares.
as every one does when in bad company but
it must have been the folly of reason. Love
is tina, which makes Us forget all that pertains
to reason. and the dull state of things Of this
world. and wander in dreams Of pure unalloy-
ed low. Who that has been in love does not
delight to inger over the painful memory ofby-
gone hours, and feel as the shadows of Depart
ed wears fit before him, how sweet it is to con-
lure IN in memory's magic circle, reminiscent
proceeding from the fountain oflo Who has
not felt thrilling touch of tho pure sweet and
long from loves lips! Who has not gazej
with delight upon those magic eyes, and that
form divine, and listened 10 those dulcet tones
echong from the fountain love, swee, as Angel
ic strains! Oh. music thou art indeed the
queen of coquets! Thy voice entrances and
beguiles the senses-thou art the food Of love,
and thy voice fingers sadly on the ear. Cupid
waits upon thee. and leads captive to the Altar
the unsuspecting victims.
But enough of tine past-it makes the mind
feel sad. Reader, hast thou not felt the agony
of love? 1t may be that some of you are at
this moment, drinking deep of the stream
which gushes, and steals among flowers from
this fountain called love--if SO, thou hast al
ready tasted more than Imagination can paint,
and can bear testimony to its magic power.
There is something sublim, in love! Some
thing that eevates the soul above the deprav-
ity of human nature, and renders the heart a
source of the purest, and noblest feelings which
can animate the human breast. 1t leads the
young heart captive to deeds Of noble daring !;
makes subservient every thought and action,
to the advancement Of its own pure desires,
and stimulates to action. the noblest traits in
the human character. Love is the Prome,he-
an fire Of youthful genius ! the primeval source
of all that is noble, generous, patriotic and viz
tuous.
The young, the generous. and all who are
susceptible Of the finer feelings of orr nature,
will know how TO appreciate these sentiments.
But the s'Old Bachelors" whose hearts are as
cold and invulnerable as an iceberg, will no
doubt spurn them with disdain, as mere fam
CIV of the IMAGINATION.
Fools blind to truth, nor know the erring soul
How much more the pleasures Of requited
love is worth, than all the pretended enjoy
ment of ''Old Bachelors" solitary hours over
his sugar and his wine, in that secluded den Of
gloom called "the Bachelors Room"
While he lives, no one cares for him.
with no warmer friends than warming pan,
The lonely life Of the bachelor ends,
Nobody mourns HIM, aud and nobody sighs-
Nobody misses him. nobody cries,
Nobody grieves when the bachelor dies"
Melancholy indeed is the fate Of these heart.
less beings! Hasten then "Old Bachelors
to duty WOO and wed some fair maid, to share
your joys, and seoth your serrows. jfyou can