New Orleans daily crescent. [volume] ([New Orleans, La.]) 1851-1866, 1866-04-09
aesp Orleans Daily Qrestent.
MONDAY MORNING, -ApRIL Q. ls6e
Aux Ttailens.

Aux Itallens. w p l.n
In the following Owen Meredith has illustrated the
passionate thoughts:l a"
At Paris it was, at the opera there
And she look'd like queen in book that night
With the wreath of pearl in her raven hair, =
And the brooch on her breast SO bright
or all the operas that Verdi wrote. l4
The best, to my taste, is the Trovatore:
And Mario can soothe with tenor note saIl.
The souls In purgatory. rre ,n aN
The moon on the tower slept soft. ss Ssnw.
And who has not thrlld In tie strangest way,
As we heard him sing, while che gus burned low,
Non Ii sco'ldr dS me ?" Mr.
The Emperor there, in lis box of state,
.Look'd grave, ms il he had lust then seen
The red flag waved from the city gate,
Where his eagles IN bronze had been. ,J
The Empress, toJ, had a tear in her eye,
You'd have said that her fancy had gone back
For one mornent under the old blue sEy, r.
NE old glad life in Spain. 90 '7
Wei! there in our frontrow box we sat, .,.t19
:. Together my bride betrothed and Il: ga 1'I
My gaze was fX'd on my opera hat -.H
And hers on the stage hard BY ,-..,
And both were silent and both were sad.
Like queen, she leand on her full white arm,
With that regal, indolent air she had
So confident of her charm!
l. have not doubt she was thinking then I.
OF her former lord, good soul that he was
Who died the richest and ronndest OF men,
The Marquis of Carabas .,..
Ihope that to get to the, kingdom Of heaven, 'a
Through needless eye had not to pass.
; far ha inipf Oiv
To my lady of Carabas af
Meanwhile was thinking of my first love,
AS | had not been thinking of aught for years.
Till over my eyes there began to move
Something that fell like tears.
thought OF the dress she wore the last time,
When we stood meath the cypress trees together,
In that lost land, in that soft cline,
In the Gin on evening weather. .-.
Of that muslin dress lfor the eve was ho)
And her warm, white neck, in its golden chain
And her full soft hair, just tied in knot
And falling loose again:
And the jasmine flower in her fair young breast ::
70 the faint. sweet smell of that Jasmine flower y
And the one bird singing alone to his nest
And the one star over the tower.
thought Of our little quarres and strife;
And the letter that brought me back my ring,
And it all seemd then, in the waste of life,
Such very little thing MI.
For thought of her grave below the hill
Which the sentinel cypress tree stands over,
And thought =" were she only living still
How | could forgive her and love hertz
And swear as thought of her thus, in that hour,
And of how, after all, old things were best,
That smelt the smell of that jasmine flower,
Which she used to wear in her breast. ....
It smet so faint, and 1t snelt so sweet
1t made me creep and it made me cold
Like the scent that steeIs fromthe crumbling sheet
Where a mummy is half unroli'd. az
And turned and lookd She was sitting there
In dim box, over the stage and drest
In that muslin dress. with that full soft hair,
And that jasmine in her breast
was here: and she was there:
And the glitterng horse shoe curved between
From my bride betroth'd, with her raven hair,
And her sumptuous, scorntul mien.
To my early love, with her eyes downcast,
And over primrose face the shade,
Tin short, from the future back to the past,)
There was but step to be made.
To my early love from my future bride ...
One moment looked. Then stole to the door
Itrayers'd the passage; and down at her side
was sitting moment more.
My thinking of her, or the music's strain,
Or something which will never be exprest,
Had brought her back from the grave again,
With the jasmine in her breast.
She is not dead, and she is not wed
But she loves me now and she loved me then,
And the very first words her sweet lips said,
Hy heart grew youthful again.
The Marchoness there, of Carabas,
She is wealthy, and young. and handsome still,
Aud but for her-well, Wen let that pass,
She may marry whomever she will. .. .....
But will marry my own first love,
With her primrose face; for old things are best
And the flower in her bosom, prize it above
The brooch in my lady's breast a
The world is filled with folly and sin,
And Love must cling where it can, say;
:" For Beauty ia easy enough to win;
But one isn't loved every day. 20 ...
nd think in the lives of most women and men
There's moment when all would go smooth ant
even,
If only the dead could find out when
To come back and be forgiven.
But oh the smell of that jasmine flower!
And oh the music and oh the way
p That voice rang out from the donjon tower,
Non ii ScOrddr III me,
M Non ii sc0rddr dt me -
Tecumseh's Death.