The daily crescent. [volume] ([New Orleans, La.]) 1848-1851, 1849-02-09
DAILY CRESCENT.
From the Knickerbocker.
THE NTOM FAINTER.


THE PHANTOM PAINTER
At sunset in the cd familiar cline
Where A ri retains her fonsecfateu u9Wel,
Where tunefui We pers never cease 10 Grdnp re-
The swan-ltke dIrgc OF days departing hour'
A painter eaZes from lonely lower
Upon the golden clouds that er MN pay,
And longs 10 pencil. with accustomed power,
The dol hin glorIes Of the dying day,
How bright OF hue. how soon to pass away!
But alb for him no more the sweets of Art;
In vain the woOlng beauties OF the sky
Wasted his frame, and oVertasked his heart,
He gazes skyward with the day to die
No voice or ministry OF love Is nigh;
flushed into Teversnt stiffness is the air.
Save when The lonely clock clicks loudly by,
AS If rude Time, NTH mOckCrU Of dtSpdtr,
In ruthless haste, his Scytte were whetttHg there.
And now to break that solitude, Chow Ione,)
Footsteps approach, bnt yet no sound arse;
Echo, dfrighted, croucheS 'ae0th The stohe
That parcs tie chaMJcr pkere the Painter lies;
An archer comes, and on his bow he tnes
An arrow ieathered from an angels wing,
Yet pduScs. ere the SHINING HilsSiCe f1fS,
To mGrca that the shaft hath lost its sting;
Meanwhile some angels near begin to sing
Holy and rare it is for Death to smile
Yet as the choiring throng he doth ieview,
Seraphc strains his wDnted iro"n beguie,
And to soft pit his stern heart subdue
He sees the flu!ienng spirit oft renew
Its feeble hold within that thrObbng breast,
And reads that, ere its bars be broken through,
Mortality doth urge last request,
To see It's childh0od's haunts, then be at rest.
Death kindly now, outstreching through the room
The Fainter winding sheet of spOtless white,
With his inverted arrows angel plume,
Portrays thereon the scenes of young delight:
Each jon that an Ljfs's morning took as flight
Nor. at Luc's eueaiag, seeks its n1ontcd nest,
find dr0aPs ats ptRtJnS "a nc coming nagRti
Yet only till new morn shall wake It's Fest,
And send it forth with brighter plumage dressed.
Again the boy doth SEEM a in glass.
To muse be,ide his native mountain streams,
EnameIed with the sun S dispared beams,
Or chasing now that type of childhood dreams,
The butterfly, across the meadow CAV,
Hover
Though tTampied on. forgivingly to say,
" oh crush not thus the joys OF LIES young day ~
And now the bounties of the evening board
EntIce from sport, though 10th 10 leave their play,
A band OF joyous hearts, each oversiored
With wonderful achievements wrought that day.
A j tell at once wbate'er they have 10 say,
And merry laugh until the clock strikes nine,
,r When reverenty they put their ninth away,
To hear potion OF the Word divine,
And kneel In prayer at prayers most favored shrine
Upon the winding sheet there now is wrought
Youths fearful exile, when young Leaning calls;
Again the Painter boy is good for naught
But chalkIng pictures on the rustic walls
Scant praise to stlnted effort ever falls,
Yet Gttsstimes tie realms IF street. idesSd
fire whispering giadeS ,otere Fancy builds kerhdhS
find otngs her airy messengers to bless
me rotary 81 NdtaTe's t0ratneSs
But there was one, queen of those youthful days,
TImid, like him, and shrinking as the flower,
That he would rudely sketch, but she would praise,
As if Claude had spent thereon his power:
- So grew their hearts together that the hour
vi gladness and of grief 10 each was
They were each others lessons to the bower,
For this sweet study, they would daily run,
And count the task, when finished Just begun,
Now pictured forth by Deaths mysterious art
lie sees her ielike presence. soft and fair,
us u the inner music Of has heart,
Heard By ats mute, had S11eetLy iron her there.
With twights holy calm, she bends in prayer,
tPqIe as snowflake through the sunbeams driven)
Beseechlng that the all -protecting care
Which 10 the spanow's devious flight is given
May guard his way, and guide his steps to Heaven.
Yet, lest mortality may hardly wean
Its long devotion from a love SO sweet,
Death paints tombstone in the churcbyard green
To mark the recent traces of his feet.
The mortal weepS Tor one he soon shall meet
Yet, when he thinks how soon, he weeps no more
But yeanS that sisters angel form 10 greet
Whose arms are stretching from the spirit shore,
Entreatng him with love to hasten DER.
Death turns has shaft to brush a1yag a tear:
No longer is his fatal aim delayed
The crcllng angels gently interfere
And on their wings receive the ransOmed shade;
While to their heavenly homes he is conveyed
One swifter winged and tenderer than the rest
Bends tearfulIy beside the suppiant maid
Whose prayer cen now TO Heaven is addressed
And pours these words into her stricken breast
The Sabbath Of heart-rest is his at last;
. His dove like spirit, that would often stray
IN iTueSs screenings DER the waters vast [play |
nhs found green groves were its white wings may
Whue from ats arb. HOl1 M6Hidtriug dS1Gy
Upon The mountain top Of iQttB aim,
- Pr0ithc thoughts hare wandered into dan: [came |
Thoughts prlsoned while Times tempests fercely /
But which pefchance Eternity may claim