The Cadiz sentinel. [volume] (Cadiz, Ohio) 184?-1851, 1845-03-05
MISCELLANY.
In LOVE.
BY E. LYTToN BULwER.

'HO uCalt' Oul W luoSe VINO truly ana deeply
love, there is an ~infidelity with which the person
has no share. Like ingratitude, it is punishable
by no law. We are powerless 10 avenge our
selves.
When two persons are united by affection, and
the love of the one survives that of the other,
who can measure the anguish of the unfortunate
who watches the extraction of a light, which no.
thing can re-illuminate! 1t mostly happens, too,
that the first discovery is sudden. There is a
deep trustfulness in a loving heart; it is blind TO
the gradual decrease of sympathy IFS divine at
tributes, the absent eye, the chilling word, to a
thousand causes, save the true one; care-illness
some worldly trouble, some engrossing thought,
and (poor fool that it ISL endeavors by additional
tenderness to compensate for the pain that is not
of its own causing. Alas! the time has come
when it can no longer compensate. 1t hath cea-
sed to be the all-in-all to its cruel partner. Gus
tom has brought its invariable course, aud indif-
ference gathers round the place in which we had
garnered up our soul.
At length the appalling light breaks upon us
= we discover We are no longer loved. And
what remedy have we? None! Our first, our
natural feeling is resentment. We are conscious
OF treachery; this ungrateful heart that has fall
len from US, how have we priced and treasured
it--how have we sought to shield it from every
arrow-how have We pleased ourselves, in soil
tude and in absence, with ~yearning thoughts of
its faith and beauty-now it is ours no more!-
Then we break into wild reproaches-we become
eXacting--we watch every look--we guage eve
ry ~action-we are unfortunate-we weary--we
offend. These our agonies--our impetuous
IInrctc pF DocSiOp- nj irNnicDl and Ltt4or to,nte
to which we half expect, as heretofore, to hear
the soft word that turneth away wrath-these on
ly { expedite the fatal hour; they are new crimes
in us; the very proofs of our bitter love are treas,
Gred and repeated as reasons why we should be
loved no more; as if without throe, without a
murmur, we could resi- On ourselves to such q
loss. Alas!-it is with fierce commissions that
the temple is rent in twain, and we hear the d-
vinity depart.
Sometimes we stand in silence, with a full
heart gazing upon those bald cold eyes, which
never can again melt in tenderness upon u.s.
And our silence is dumb--its eloquence is gone.
We are no longer understood. We long to die
in order to be avenged. We half pray for some
great misfortune, some agonizing illness, that
may bring 10 us our soother and our nurse. We
say, 'ln affection or in sickness ii could not thus
desert u.s." We are mistaken. We are shelter.
less-the roof has been taken from our heads =
we are exposed to any and every storm. Then
comes a sharp and dead sentiment of loneliness
and insecurity. We arc le~ft--weak children in
the dark. We are bereft more irrevocably than
by death, for will even the hereafter that unites
the happy dead, who die lovingly, restore the
love that has persisted ere life be dim?
What shall we do? We have accustomed our.
selves TO love and be loved. Can we turn 10
new ties, and seek in another that which is ex.
%tnctln one? How often is such a resource in
vain? Have we not given 10 this-the treacher
Gus and false friend--the best years of our life
the youth of our hearts--the flower of our ac
~fections? Did we not yield up the harvest? How
little is there left for another to CLEAN? This
makes the crime of the moral infdelity. The
one who takes away from us his or her love,
takes from us also the love of all else. We have
no longer perhaps the yield and the attractions
to engage affection. Once we might have cho.
sen out of the world--now the time is past
Who shall love us in our scar and yellow leaf, as
in that time when we had most the qualities thai
win love2 1t was a beautiful sentiment of one
whom her lord proposed to put away--"Give me
then, back" said she, "that which | brought tC
YOU" And the man answered, in his vulga
coarseness of soul-"Your fortune shall return
to you" 81 thought not of fortune" said the
lady "give me back my real wealth--give me
back my beauty and my youth--give me bacl
the virginity of souI--give me back the Cheerful
mind, and the heart that had never been disap
pointed"
Yes, il is of these that the unfaithful rob us
when they dismiss us back upon the world, ant
tell us with bitter mockery, 10 form new ties
In proportion to the time that we have been faith
ful--in proportion to the feelings we have sacri
fced--in proportion 10 the wealth of soul, of al
lection, of devotion, that we have consumed
are we shut out from the possibility of atone
ment elsewhere. But this is not all; the othe
occupations of the world are made stale and bar
rem to us! The daily avocations of life--tht
common pleasures the social diversions, SO tamt
in themselves, had charms when we could shar,
and talk over them with one another. 1t wa
sympathy withdlawn-they are nothing to US
worse than nothing. The talk has become til,
tinkling cymbal, and society the gallery of pic
lures. Ambition, toll, the great aims of life
even these cease abruptly TO excite. What, il
the first place, made labor grateful, and ambition
dear! Was it NOT the hope that their reward
would be reflected upon another self?
And now there is no other self. And, in III,
second place, (and this is a newer consideration
does It not require a certain calmness and free
dom of mind for great elortsf Persuaded of III,
possession of what most we value, we can loo|
abroad with cheerfulness and hope, the con
seriousness of a treasure inexhaustible by extel
nal failures, make us speculative and bold. Now
all things are cOlored by our dependency; gu
self-esteem--Ihat necessary incentive TO glory