The mountain sentinel. [volume] (Ebensburg, Pa.) 1844-1853, 1853-01-20

Ia she not beautiful, although so pale!
The first May flowers are not more colourless
Than her white cheek; yet Irecall the time
When she was called the rosebud of our village.
There was a blush, half modesty, half health,
Upon her cheek fresh as the summer morn
With which she rose. A cloud of chestnut
curls
Like twilight darlen'd Ger her blue-vein' d
brow;
And thro' their hazel curtains eyes, whose light
Was like the violets when April skies
Have riven their own pure colour to the leaves,
Sbone sweet and silent as the twilight star.
And she was happy; innocence and hope
Make the young heart paradise for love.
And she loved and was loved The youth was
one
That dwelt upon the waters He had been
Where sweeps the blue Atlantic wide world
Had seen the sun light up the flowers ike gems
In the bright Indian isles-had breathed the air
When sweet with cinnamon, and gum and spice;
But he said that no air brought health or balm
Like that on his own hills, when 1t had swept
Ger orchards in their bloom, or hedges, where
Bossop,d the hawthorn and the honeysuckle;-
That but one voyage more and he would come
To his dear Ellen and her cottage home
Dwell there in love and peace. And then he
kiss'd
Her tears away, talkd of the pleasant years
Which they should pass together-of the pride
lie would take in his constancy. Oh hope
Is very eloquent and as the hours
Pass'd by their freside in calm cheerfulness,
Ellen forgot to weep.
At length the time
or parting came; twas the first month offspring.
Like n Green fan spread the horse chestnut
leaves,
A shower of yellow bloom was on the elm,
The daisies shone like silver, and the boughs
We're cover'd with their blossoms, and the sky
No. Of hone clear
So beautifully blue Love. oh young Love!
Why hast thou not security? Thou act
Like bright river on whose course the weeds
Are thick and heavy: briers are on is g, -
And Jagged stones and rocks are mid
Conscious fits own beauty, it will rush
Over its many obstacles, and pant
For some green valley as its quiet home.
Either it rushes with desperate leap
Over its barriers, foaming passionate,
But prison'd still; or, winding languidly,
Becomes dark. like oblivion, or else wastes
Itself away.-This is Loves history!
They parted one spring evening; the green sea
Had scarce a curl upon its wave; the ship
Rode like n Queen of Ocean.-Ellen wept,
But not disconsoate for she had hope
She knew not then the bitterness of tears.
But night clos'd in, and with the night there
came
Tempest upon the wind; the ocean light
Glard like funeral pile; all else was black
And terrible as DEATH We heard sound
Come from the Ocean-one lone signal gun,
Asking for help in vain-folow'd ID by shrieks,
Borne by the ravening gale; then deepest 81
lence:
Some gallant souls had perisid. With the first
Dim light of morn we sought the beach; and
there
Lay fragments of ship, and human shapes
CHASTITY and gash'd. But the worst sight of all,
A sight of living misery met our gaze;
Seated upon a rock drench'd by the rain,
Her hair torn by the wind. there Ellen sat,
Pale, motionless. How could love guide he1
there?
A corpse lay by her, in her arms its head
Pound a fond pillow and Ger it she watehd
As the young mother watches her first child.
Ii was her lover.