New-York tribune., 1842-02-09
From Graham's Magazine for February.
ROSALISE
" JAMES RUSS ELL VEL

THou look on me all vestcrlIight,
Thine eyes were blue, thy hair was bright
As when we murrnu,ed our troth-plight
Beneath the thick stars, Ro>aline.
Thy hair was braided on thy head
AZ on the day We two were we'd.
Mine ewes scarce knew If thou vert dead
But rnv shrunk heart knew, Rosaline
The death-watch tick'd behind the waD,
The blackness rus.led Ike a pail,
The moaning wind did rise and fall
Among the bleak pines, Rosaline
Nv heart beat thickly in mine ears
The lids NAV shut out tcshlr tears,
But still tho. spirit sees and hear
Iss ewes arc idless, Rosal''e
A widness rushing s,ddenl -
A huosing some i'll shape Is nigh,
wish for death, a fear 10 die
Is not this vengeance, Rosaline
loneliness that is not lone,
A love quite wiihercd up and gone
A strong soul trampled from its throne
What would'st thoa farther Rosaiine
It's lone such moonless nights as these,
Strange sounds are out upon the breeze,
And the leaves SILVER in the trees,
And then thou contest, Rosalinc
| seem to hear the lnourner5 20,
With long black garments trailing slow,
And plumes anodding 10 and fro,
A. once heard them, Rosaline
Thy shroud it u Of snowy white,
And, in the middle Of the night,
Thou ,tandes, movecss and upright
Gazing upon me. Rosaline
There is no sorrow in thine eyes,
But cverrnorc that meek surprise
Oh, God her gentle spirrtrics
20 deem me guiltlcss, Rosalinc.
Above thy grave the robin sings,
And swarms Of bright and happy things
Fit all about with sunlit wings
But am cherries, Rcsaiinc
The volcts on the hiilock toss,
The grave-stone Is o ergrown with moss,
For Nature feels not any loss
But am cherries, Ro,aline.
All why vert thou 50 lowly bred!
Why YVES my pride CALLED on to wed
Her who brought lands and gold instead
OF thy hcarts treasure, Rosahnei
WHY did fear to let thee stay
II look Oh me and pass away
Forgivinglv, "a in its May
a broken flower, Rosalinc
thought not, when my dagger stroh,
Of thy blue eyes; could not brook
The past all pleading in one look
OF utter sorrow, Rosalinc
did not know whom thou vert dead:
A backbinl wh<tling overhead
Thrilled through my brain; | would have Acd
1 l., -,
a low, low moan, light twig stirred
By the upspringing of u Bird
4 drip CT blood, were all heard
Then dcathy Stiffness, Rosalne!
The sun rolled down, and very soon,
Like 4 great Ere, the awful moon
Rose stained with blood and thenu swoon
Crcpt chilly Ger nc, Rosalinc!!
The stars came ont; and, one by one,
Each angel from his silver throne
Looked down and saw what | had done:
dared not hide me. Rosalnc!
crouchcd feared thy corpse would CRY
Against me to God 5 quiet sky,
| thought SAW thy blue lips try
TO utter something, Rosalinc.
/ ,yeitod with n mn,lolcncd grin
To hear that voice I'LL icy thin
Slide forth and tell nv deadly sin
To hell and Heaven, Rosalino
But no voice came, and then it seemed
That if the very corpse had screamed
The sound like sunshine glad had strearncd
Through that dark stiffness, RoSaine!
Dreams Of old quiet glmmcrcd bv,
And faces loved in intancv
Game and looked on me mourntuly,
Till my heart melted, RoSalne!
saw my mothers dying bed,
| heard her bless me, and | shed
Cool ,cars-but 10 the CHASTITY dead
Stared me to madness, Rosalinc!
And then amid the silent night
I screamed with horrible delight,
And in my brain an angel light
Did seem to cracklc, RoSalinc
II ia my curse! sweet mem rics fall
From me like snow-and only all
OF that one night, like cold worms crawl
NV doomed heart over, Ro<alinc
Thine eyes are shut: they never more
Win leap thy gentle words before
To tell the secret Der and Ger
Thou could It not smother, Rosaline
Thine eyes are shut: they will not shine
With happy tears, or. through the vine
That hid thy easement. beam on mine.
Sunfull with gladneSs, Rosaline!
Thy VOICE | never more shall hear,
Which in old times did seem so dear.
That, ere il iIcmblcd in mine ear
My quick hear; heard it, Rosa!inc
Would nigh, die! ] were as we'll
>y, better, at my homcn He'll,
To set for aye burning spell
Twixt me and memory. Rosalinc!
WHY wilt thou haun; me with thine cve..
wherein such blessed memories,
Such pityins forgiveness lies
Than hate more bitter, Rosalinc!
Woe me! | know that love nigh
"A thine, true soul, could never die
And with mean clay in cllurch-vard lie
Would God i, We're So RoSaine
From Godey's LaJy> Book for Feb.
MARY RY.AN'S DAUGHTER.
MRS. c. NALL.