Glasgow weekly times. (Glasgow, Mo.) 1848-1861, 1851-06-26
ANGEL AND FOET.
A Louisianaise Story, from the Historical
Romances Of Louisiana,") Translated from
the French of Cbarle Testut


l am about to relate to you sample
and touching story, Madamei you ere
already acquainted with it, but the
world does not know it enough, and
yet it deserves that the art we owe to
the genius of Gutenberg should pre-.
serve.it-at least as long as the this
modest book shall last.
Let US suppose TO scene to be the Isle
of France. Some years ago, youth
and young girl loved each other
And they were worthy of mutual love,
in heart and mind; | do not know if one
was poor and The other rich, and that
is thing of too little importance for
me to take the trouble of gaining infor-
nation. The young man, whom we
will call Alexander, had the misfortune
(as regards the worldD and the happi.
ness (for himself) 10 be a poet. This
is sufficient to tell you, Madame, how
much he loved and of what pure aud
noble instincts his soul was formed.--
The young girl--whose name | will not
mentlon--was one of those good, gen
lie, simple, patient, yet courageous souls,
who attach themselves once, and for
ever, as the ivy cings TO the oak, grow
ing and fourishing with it, and dying
the same day. This love, like that of
Paul and Virginia, was born of an in.
fantine friendship which had increased
until one day, it changed, but only
in name. At that epoch, they were
too young TO marry. 1t was agreed
between the two families that they
were to wait four or five years.
You see, Madame, all this was very
simple, destitute of intrigue, or roman
tic ornament. II has been, hitherto,
our every day history--alas! it will not
be so to the end--and all is true, as you
we'll know.
Four or five years. how short time!
or how long a time! Very short when no
te.ters arrest the course Of the car of
happiness-too long when sorrow, pitt
? less vulture! preys on two poor doves,
. Dire aiming only of love.
The clock of sorrow struck one day,
for the poor poet. The fatal pendulum
vibrated as though a furious hand agi.
taled it; the youth become suddenly
old.
But his heart lived, amidst the ruins
, ofhis poor crushed and weakened body,
Then, Madame, the poet became sub.
lime He wept, in magnificent verse
his lost happiness, his extinguised hope
: his young years loaded with the suffer.
ing of frighlfu old age!
e His despair was not that of an ordl'
nary man; mol an insult thrown at fate
! with powerless voice: no, it was
D touching complaint, full of christian re-
j signation, admirable in its grandeur
s Poetry was his saviourl
;. While the flood of misery sought &c
C overwhelm him, the noble daughter o
!. Heaven raised him above the waters
# and the poets soul was lifted from lh'
t earth, as the rainbow in the day Of tn
d great deluge.
n Poetryl-to you, Madame, nce'
e not descrbe-she has been the com
y panion of your life, the inspiration
!. your good actions, the guardian ange
II OF your Iest.
IS But there are many who have n
d soul 10 feel, no mind 10 understand i
Of there are some who ask, with prou
,e disdan, Poetry, what is lhalF" this
ar no, a poe,ical age; in these stormy day
Or the aim and end of all is the golden cal
is Yet, when we suffer, when we low
Is, or hope, do we not most feel It's init
ence2
If gold procures US the material e.
ioymenls of life; if virtue gives qul
RS conscience; though honesty gains US Il
he esteem of others, and Of ourselves; po
lie try, we say 10 those who deny 1t, is Il
n. counlerpoise of all heavy sorrowi
en- ncorruplible ves,al, guardian Of Hope
* walch.lower she makes US Just, P
ng tient, and honest.
lo' "Where shall we find herr sol
co. will ask. Like God, she is ever
~" where.
~ On the calm or tempestuous sea;
49, IT, the heavens, whether black with slorr
WV or shedding on earth the soft radiar
of the milky.way; in The trembll
% stars; or the moonlight, pale and pu
y" do we not find poetryi
Is not the fall Of the leaf, amid
de- tumn wnds-the bursting beauty
we we fresh spring, full ofpoetry' is not
u'o iberality of the generous rIch'
N ma honest pride of poverty poelical!
m n,s Yes, the world is full of poetry;
W." W." if but few feel or understand II, W
we matter? If the disdain of the m'
Ia', hn, chooses to deny its existence, or ,ur
ou' into ridicule;. what thenl To eI
vsr ~ one his joys, TO each his wants
Jaw He is a poet, who spite of,he wor
Srb. scurn, in the midst of its matier'of,
calculation. desDite the obstacles OF