American union. [volume] (Morgantown, Va. [W. Va.]) 1855-1859, 1857-08-21
THE MAID OF ROCK CREEK ;
OR, rst
Serapliina and RudOlphuS. $

\ duu huUOtUIluSk
Twas evening ON the banks of the
beautiful Rock Creek. The silver
beams of Luna, which struggled down
through the branches of the trees, re.
vcaled ascene of transcendental beauty.
Upon an ancient stump, which had
bravcd the tempests of an hundred win.
ters, sitting in an attitude of graceful
repose, was an angelifcrous maiden Just
bloomcd out into sunny womanhood.
She was radiantly and pccrleesly beau.
tlful. Webster hides his inslorious
head in the dust in the vain attempt to
furnish words descriptive of her lowell.
ness. Graceful as duck, wild as a
nawk,. pcnsive as q setting hen, and
her rich cuSls of tow-colored gold strea-
ming over her shoulders to the ground,
like some bright swamp angel She sat,
while the moonbeams rested like a halo
upon her elegant head. Sorrow, and
the mullen stalks which grew around
her. cast deep shadows over her unri-
vailed countenance, and the night wind,
as it kissed her magnificent cheek, bore
to her delighted olfactories the fragrant
breath of elder blows. Her knitting
work lay. idle in her lap. Her eyes,
which shamed the lightning bugs, were
bcpoozlcd with diamond tears, She
was listening with an air of sorrowful
distraction to the passionate pleadngs
of q noble youth who knelt at her feet.
Never moonlight fell upon a more glo-
rious countcnancc than that upturned
to that of the maiden's enamored gaze.
Never yielded mother earth to finer
form than that which pressed the dan
deIon bank atsScraphina's feet. His
features We're such as Nebuchadnezzar
or Apollo might have envied. e.5
His dark, piercing eyes were like the
waters of his own Rock Greek for depth
and clearncss, and were brilliant mir
rors in which the truth and veracity of
his godlikc soul were reflected. From
his brow of vast and ponderous proper
tlons, the sympathising breeze swept
back long hyacinthian locks, whose
hue, in the shade, was deep raven black
ness, but when the light fell upon it,
it resembled muddy pool when the
sun>bcams stike it aslant.
His hands were clasped in an attitude
of despair. He spoke, and his tones
which were deep and mournful as the
chant at the funeral of a martyred bull
frog at Rock Greek dam. ooh! fairy
queen of heaven! Pure dove of moon.
shiny sky! Translucent light of nv
benightcd eyes! Cherished and beloy-
cd of my hearts corc How canst thou
doubt that the cabbage loves the geni-
al rain? Dost thou doubt that the
chicken loves the dough dish? Then
doubt my love for thee! All! love is
but feeble word to express the pas
sion that consumes my vitals. Be
mine, adorable one, else | de-" cru
dolphus, she murmured, ''it cannot
be; the mandate of my vengcful father,
and the decree OF fate must be obcyed, .
and her voice was az melodious as the
tinkle of fractured cow-bells, far down
the Scipio road, and low and sad as the
last moan of a dying pollywog. "Talk
not of obedience, thou beautiful and
cruel one!" he yelled, in voice of
speechlcss agony. ooh, canst thou
sit in thy cold majesty, like frozen
sausage, and see my aching heart 60
ing all to thunderin' smash before
thine eyes, for a mistaken sense of
duty?"
"See," said he, as his voice died a.
way to a sad wall, like the howl of q
broken back mastiff, and he dashed
from the mullen leaves near him a drop
of pearl dew,-"See, Night herself
wecps with mo and mourns the cruel
ty." The maiden was appalled, at the
sight of his anguish. The crimson tide
which dyed her check like red holly
hook, cut stick and left it winter than
a cotton pillow case. She arose from
her seat, dazzling in her resplendant
beauty as a bright tin milk-p pan when
the midday beams of the glorious sun
are poured full upon it, and captivating
in her shadowy grace as a yellow
lilly floating upon the limpid waters of
a dry goose pond. She spoke, and the
stars of night stood still, the wind cea-
sed to moan among the leaves, and tho
night owls and frogs were silent to lis
ten. "Rndolphus, beloved of my soul, Z"
she said in voice sweetcr than tho
syrup Of New Orleans; "thou knowc est
that | love thee! My heart clings to
thee as the bean to the pole. My heart
knows no music save thy voice, and
my lips no yictuals but thy kisses.
Without thee, | famish, | die. But the
picket fence of duty surrounds me-
1t is stuck full Of cruel spikes, and l
cannot surmount it. a last embrace,
my heavenly one, and we part forev-
er. IBID me not DEPART hc roored