Cincinnati daily press. [volume] (Cincinnati [Ohio]) 1860-1862, 1861-04-05
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the ashes Of the mighty, whose spoken word
is ever echoing in the ear Of Time. r.
Desolaie and dreary as Isolation seems, IL
is full Of negative comfort to the strong. '
B Out Of its solitude the poet and phiIoso-
pher may look, and learn to despise the hu-
manity he has been taught TO think divine.
His conceptions will be clear; his opinions
win be wise but the babbling selfish World
will have no power to move his heart.
"Itis unnatural" says a half thinker, TO
ignore ones brothers; to shut ones self
from the sympathies, and reject the senti-
ments, of the millions of actors in the great
tragedy of life.
"They belong to thee, and thou to them,
different and narrow as they appear. They
claim thy thought, thy esteem, thy affection;
and when thou withholdest it, thou art in
serious error"
Affection, sympathy, esteem What words
are these for the shallow World that cares
for nothing, thinks of nothing, but itself.
Though Justice be strangled and Mercy
be torn in pieces by the mob of Prejudice,
the World recks not; for it would jeer at the
sacrifice of its truest friend, and denounce
the every act of one who died for its ad-
vancement and its good. e.
Isolation is a safeguard and defense, the
narrow rock Of safety amid the hungry
and the bowling waters Of the human sea.
Step forth from thy Isolation upon the
stoutest bark, and unless the storm wrecks
thee, those who have wooed thee from thy
retreat will, while thou sleepest in peace
plunge thee in the murder. hiding main.
Our misfortunes come not from ourselves,
much as we hear the settled strain.
The hand that wounds and the brain that
thwarts US is most often that of protesting
friend.
The great sorrows of our life; the deep re-
grets for which no Lethe flows, and no cup
of compensation is, are born of circumstances
we could not, for salvation of our soul, have
changed.
Fated as the Atride were, our miseries are
thrust upon us, though we stood upon the
pinnacle of purity and saw no Heaven save
in our fellows peace.
The stream of Life is ever prone to burst
the banks of individuality, and wash away
cdCh BnIuoH-spOtt WutIt Will uuCu tOll duu
mere anxiety Oontentment erst was sown.
All looks promising and fair, as the regal
Sun goes WHEELING down the West in chariot
of gold; but the frst-opening eyelids of the
Dawn behold the sullen waters there and
our exhausting labors vain.
Such is the cruel consequence to man,
when he essays to plant his peace upon the
shore of the perfdious sea that represents
humanity.
Isolation will alone protect him from dis
appointment and despair; for then will he
be to himself at least the truth.
Isolated, he will not hang his hopes in
fragile bowers, nor plant his expectations in
the sand. To his far. seeing eye the Future
will be robbed of its great distance, and years
unpassed unroll themselves, as in a vision, to
his prophetic gaze.
"Alas," exclaim the sentimentalists-the
gentle race that have no proper sphere this
side the stars-"how sad the thought that
tends to Isolation ~
With Isolation, thou art as if unborn. No
eye looks brighter for thy coming no heart
responds in sympathy to thine.
affection never falls like Heavens dew
upon thy arid life, and comprehension oi
thy troubled soul is never felt by morta
mind"
So much the better sweet seeker of th,
ideal goodI we would thy iris dreams fore
told the Futures possibility.
But let US speak as grim Experience
teaches, and uryielding Actually compels
Isolation places thee beyond the reach ot
Sympathy and power of Love. Such depri
vation might add to thy unhappiness, did 81
thou not know the two are twin fairies OIL
fantastic realm.
No friends are thine in Isolation is mos
true; but hast thou them in the midst o
best Society?
Seek not to prove thy faith, if thou
holdest it, for the experiment will make thee
cynical; thy confidence will be poisoned
with positive knowledge.
Friends are creatures of the hour, who
will aid thee when there is no need; who
will worship thee in thy prosperity, and de.
sert thee in thy necessity.
Trust the mind or woman even; but wheI
friendship is proffered, extend thy hand ant
withhold thy heart. ..'
Let no idle tale, though it be couched il
musical tone and rythmic verse, cheat thee
into belief of consolation, if thy life is pain.
full or thy spirit agonized.
The Future only whispers hope because il
is unknown. When it becomes the Present
it will be as stern and cruel as the heavy
hour that binds thy forehead like crown of
envenomed thorns.
What has been is more cheerful, more
strengthening than what will be.
Life gathers hurts as it advances.
To every hour is added secret sorrow
and an unhealing wound.
Cease to expect, and thy capacity for woe
will be lessened, though thy burthen will
still be heavy as thou can'st bear.
Pain is the inexplicable mystery that per
vades Creation. Why it should be, no one
can answer; but all know it is.
No being, no power, however high, ha!
the right to make thee suffer.
1t is the grossest injustice, the most crue
of cruelties.
Denounce, blaspheme, if thou wilt.
1t is natural thou should'sti but the evil
yet remains, and increases with thy life, ant
ends--perhaps never.
Isolation is q pain, but less pain thar
Society.
The SO. called good of Life is but diminished
i'll.
Isolate thyself early, and when the arrow
of Fate strike thee in thy solitude, as they
will, though thou vert cased in adanant
borrow consolation, if thou canst, from thu
thought, that one misfortune is less to b
lamented than the many the World viii thrus
upon thee, while thou lest upon the con