The Cadiz sentinel. [volume] (Cadiz, Ohio) 184?-1851, 1845-07-30
THE MUSES. BOWER.
The Lament of the widowed Inebriatc.

The .auburn Journal publishes letter from frie
in Boston, from which we borrow thefollowing :-"V
tied Prof Longfellow this rooms in old Harvard.
poet was in fine health and spirits, and gave sol
stanzas entitled The Lament of the Widowed Ineb
ate, by Duganne, which enclose for the gratifcati
Of the readers of your paper. They breathe the tr
spirit of poetry and surpass in tenderness, beauty,
thos and deneation of hear-brolSen sorrow, anythi
I ever saw. Longfellow says that they are enough
immortalize any poet. Alas the poo, Inepnaie! H'
JUST how true the following lines! What daguerrt
type likeness of the inmost soul of the dunkard ha
we here.''
I'm thinking on thy smile, Mary
Thy bright and trusting smile,
In the morning of thy youth and love,
Ere sorrow Came-Or guile
When thine arms were twined about my neck,
And mne eyes looked into thine,
And the heart that throbbed for me alone,
Was nesting close to mine!
sec full many smile, Mary,
On young lips beaming bright
And many an eye of light and love
Is flushing in my sight
But the smile is not for my poor heart,
And the eye is strange to me,
And loneliness comes DER my soul
When its memory turns to the!
I'm thinking on the night, Mary,
The night of grief and shame,
When with drunken rawlings on my lips,
To thee homeward came:-
O., the tear was in thine earnest eye,
Aad thy bosom wildly heaved,
Yet a smile of love was on thy check,
Though the heart was sorely grieved!
But the smile soon left thy lips, Mary,
And thine eye grew dim and sad,
For the tempter lured my steps from thee,
And the wine cup drove me mad:
From thy cheek the roses Quickly fled.
And thy ringing laugh was gone,
Yetthy heart still chung to me,
And still kept trusting on.
o, my words were harsh to thee, Mary,
For the wine cup made me wild;
And l child thee when thine eyes were sad
And cursed thee when they smiled
God knows loved thee even then,
But the fire was in my brain,
And the curse ofdrink was in my heart,
Tomake my love bane.
Twas pleasant home of ours, Mary,
In the spring time ofou life,
When looked upon thy sunny face,
And proudly called thee, wife
And twas pleasant when our children playd
Before our cottage door
Butt children sleep with thee, Mary,
Ine'er shall see them more
Thou'rt resting in the church-yard now,
And no stone is at thy head;
But the sexton knows drunkard's wife
Sleeps in that lowly bed -
And he says the hand ofGod, Mary,
Will fall with crushing weight
On the wretch who brought thy gentle life
To its untimelytate!
But he knows not of the broken hear!
bear within my breast,
Or the heavy load of vain remorse,
That will not letme rest;
He KNOWS not Of the sleepless nights,
When dreaming of thy love,
j seem to sec thine angel eyes
LooG coldly from above.
have raised the wine cup in my hand,
And the widest strains I've sung,
Till with the laugh of drunken mirth
The echoing air has rung:-
But pale and sorrowing face looked out
From the glittering cup on me,
And trembling whisper heard
That fancied, Whispered by thee!
Thou art slumbering in the peaceful grave,
And thy sleep is dreamless now,
But the seal ofan undying grief
Is on thy moumer's brow,
And my heart is chill as thine, Mary,
For the joys Of life have fled,
And long to lay my aching breast
With the cold and silent dead!