The Cecil Whig. [volume] (Elkton, Md.) 1841-current, 1848-07-29
The Broken Hearted.
BY GEORGE D. PRENTICE.

4 iHS upou VIC SdIlO"S, WIN deep curse
quivering on his lips-I have viewed death
in all its forms Of darkness and vengeance
with a fearless eye, but never could look
on woman, young and lovely woman, fad
ing away from earth in beautiful and un-
complaining melancholy, without feeling
the very fountains Of life turned to ,eais and
dust. Death is always terrible, but when
form Of angel beauty is passing off 10 the ST,
lent lanl OF the sleepers, the heart feels tina,
something lovely in the universe is ceasing
from exislance, and broods with sense of
utter desola,ion over the lovely thoughts tina,
come up, like spectres from the grave, TO
haunt our midnight musings.
Two years ago took up my residence for
IA few weeks in country village in the east
ern part of New England. Soon after my
arrival became acquainted with lovely
girl, apparently about seventeen years of
age. She had lost the idol of her hearts
purest love and the shadows of deep ard ho-
ly memories we've resting like the wing of
death upon her brow. first met her in the
presence Of the mirthful. She was indeed
creature TO be worshipped-her brow was
garlanded with the young years sweetest
flowers-her yellow locks were hanging
beautifully and low upon her bosom
she moved through the crowd with such
floating and unearthly grace, tina, the be-
wlldered gazer almost looked 10 see her
fade in the air, like the creation of some
pleasant dream. She Sc emed cheerful and
even gay; yet / saw that her gaie,y was but
the mockery of her feelings. She smiled,
but there was something in her smile which
told that its mourniul beauty was but the
bright reflection OF a tear-and her eye lids,
atlimes closed heavily down, as if struggling
10 repress the tide Of agony that was burst
ing from her hearts secret urn. She looked
as iGshe could have left The scene offestlvity
and gone out beneath the quiet stars, and
laid her forehead down upon the fresh green
earth, and poured out her stricken soul, gush
after gush; till it mingled with the eternal
fountain Of lite and purity.
Days and weeks passed on, and this sweet
girl gave me her confidence and became
10 her as brother. She was wasting away
by disease. The smile upon her lip was
fainter: the purple veins upon her cheek
grew visible, and the cadence Of her voice
became daily more weak and tremuIous. On
a quiet evening in the depth Of June, wan
dered out little distance in the open air.
1t was then she told me the tale Of her pas
sion. and of lhe-blight that had come down
like mildew on her life. Love had been a
portion other existence. lis tendrils had
| boon ftr,ppd or,upI lor -
earliest years; and when they were rent "a
way, they, leia wound which flowed till all
the springs other soul were blood.
~ am passing away, said she, and it
should be SO. The winds have gone over
my life, and the bright buds Of hope, and
the sweet blossoms of passion are scattered
around, and lie wilhenng in the.dust, or rot
ting away upon the chill waters of memory
And Yeti canno, 60 down among the tombs
without tear. 1t is hard 10 take leave Of
the friends who love me, it is hard 10 bid
farewell to those dear scenes, which from
day to day have sought the color of my life,
and sympathized with its joys and sorrows.
That little grove where have so often stray
ed with my buried love, and where al times
even now, the sweet tones Of his voice
come stealing around me till the whole air
becomes on intense and mournful melody,
that pensive star, that we used 10 watch in
is earlie,t rising, and on which my fancy
can still picture his form, looking down
upon me, reckoning me to his own bright
home-every flower, tree and rivule, on
which the memory of our early love has
set an undying seal, have become dear to
me, and cannot without sigh, close my
eyes upon them forever"
have lately heard that this beautiful
girl of whom have spoken, is dead. The
close of her life was as calm as the falling
of quiet stream, gentle as the sinking Of
the breeze that fingers for time around
the bed of witheIed roses, and then dies,
as it were, "from very sweetness"
1t cannot be that earth is mans abiding
place. 1t cannot be that our life is bub.
bic cast up by the Ocean of Eternity, 10
float moment upon its waves, and sink
into darkness and no,hingness. Else why
is it that the high and glorious aspirations,
which leap like angels from the temple of
our hearts, are forever wandering abroad unsats-
fedl Why is it that the rainbow and the |
cloud como over us with beauty that is
not Of earth, and then pass of, and leave
us to muse upon their faded loneliness!
Why is it that the STARS, which "hold their
festivals around the midnight throne," are
Sc, above the grasp Of our Limited faculties,
for ever knocking US with their unapproach-
able glory. And finally, why is that bright
forms OF human beauty are presented to our
lyiew and then taken from us-leaving the