The Weekly Perrysburg journal. [volume] (Perrysburg, O. [Ohio]) 1861-1???, 1867-12-13

[From the Mar,lana Repnblienn.l

love. There is the love of fame, 10 which
ambition leads. Tho love Of glory and re.
nown is nearly akin to It. The love OF
money or Of wealth is an absorbing thought
and leads captive thousands il is honora-
able when rightly directed, and can be
turned to good account. That love which
puriGes the soul and turns our thoughts
and affections TO Him who is the embodi-
ment OF love, from whom comoth every
good aud perfect gift, is the most perman
ont and captivating.
The love of nature rs we survey her
sublime aud beautiful works, from tho
green earth up to the starry heavens, TAX.
ing in seas and rivers lakes and rivulets,
mountains, valleys, plaius, together with
the arching heavens, their suns, moons and
clustering stars, Glls the soul with awe and
admiration. Every tree, aud leaf, and
plant, aud flower, invite to pleasing con.
temptation. Everything animate every
thing that lives and moves, and has be.
ing everything inanimate, that can be seen
aud heard, and brought home to the senses
Affords food tor contemplative thought.
The deop, eternal bass of old Oceans an.
them, the bowling storm, the muttering
thunder, the rivulet's gentle murmur, the
cooling summer brecze-all make melody
to the inmost heart. Thus our senses be.
come attuned to rhapsody in tho admiration
of Natures work.
We now come to that gontlcr and more
familiar love, born in heaven, which had
its being with our birth, lives through life
and never dies-that love which binds the
sexes together, which captivated Eve in
Eden's bowers, made Adam yield, and give
to earth its first pledge---and ask, What
isitS" Philosophy fails in attempting to
tathom Its depth and solve its mystery.
Its home is in the heart its boundary the
i|limitable fields OF romance; its subsis.
tence the choice nectar Of sentiment. Like
gravitation's law, we see 1t not, hear it not,
but know its power. Its subtle current
runs through every vein, prompts waking
thoughts, and coys with midnight dreams
II true, it knows no guile; il untrue, it is
not love, but passions slave. Poetry,
music, painting, with all the fine arts and
accomplishments, are it's handmaidens.
Spencer, in his Britain's Ida" says;
Glove is life end an end, but never ending,
All joys, all sweets, all happiness awarding;
Love is Life's wreath tne'er spent but ever spend
ing).
More rich by giving, taking by discardng;
Love is Life's reward, rewarded in rewardng +;
Then from thy wrctched heart fond care remove,
Ahl shouldst thou live but once love-sweets to
prove,
Thou wilt not love to live, unless thou live to love. 4"
Shakespeare, who understood the sweet
springs of human nature, comprehended
what it was to love, when he said:
at is TO be all made of sighs and tears,
II is to be all made of faith and service,
1t is to be all made of phantasy,
All made of passion and all made of wishes
All alteration, duty and observance,
All humbcness, all patience and impatence,
All purity, all trial, all observance
Perhaps the same author had something
else in view, when he tells U.s.
" Love is smoke raised with the fume of sphs. .
The extravaganza of love is nowhere
more extravagantly expressed than where
tho fair Juliet exclaims---
Give me my Romeo, and when he shall die,
Take him aud cut him up in little stars,
And he will make the face of Heaven so shine,
That all the world will be in love with night,
And pay no worship to the garish sun"
If all this be possible, then indeed we
wonder not at the same author saying
=" Prosperty's the very bond of love;
Whose fresh complexion and whose heart together
Affection alters"
Those who have fondIy INDUCED young
loves dream, and felt it's ripening influence,
will see themselves mirrored in the follow
umph:
"We sat and sighed,
And looked upon each other, and conceived
Not what we ail'd yet something did we all
And yet we were well aud yet we were not well ;
And what was our disease we could not tell
Then would we kiss, then sigh, then look, and thus
In that first garden of our simpleness
We spent our childhood; but when years began
To reap the fruit of knowledge, oh, how then
Would she, with craven looks, with sweet stern
brow,
Check my presumption and my forwardnessl
Yet still would give me flowers still would she
show
What she would have me, yet not have me, know. /"
Tom Moore must have realized some
thing like this which caused him to write
"New hope may bloom,
And daYs may come,
Of'milder calmor beam,
But there's nothing half so sweet in life
AS loves young dream"
Dryden uttered q splendid sentiment
when he said {:
Love is passion,
Which kindles honor ints noble acts"
And equally true the same authors re-
mark that:
" Love is a child that talks in broken language,
Yet, then he speaks most plain"
Addison never spoke truer than when
he said
4" Love Is not TO be reasoned down, or lost
In high ambition, or in thirst for greatness;
'Tis second lfe-it grows into the soul,
Warns every vein and beats in every pulse"
Young, alluding to its power, says:
" If love were endless, men were gods It's that
Does counterbalance travail, danger, pain
'Tis heavens expedient to make mortals bear
The light and cheat them Of the peaceful grave"
From Thompson's Sophonisba," we
learn
There is time for love, or life were vile,
A tedious circle of nnioyOus days.
With senseless hurry filled, distasteful, wretchcd,
Till love comes smiling in and brings his sweets"
Wordsworth says:
q There is a comfort in the strength Of love;
Twill make tho thing endurable, which else
Would overset the brain and break the heart"
And we have Coleridge telling us:
Love is a superstition which doth fear
The idol which itself hath made"
Then Tennyson says
"God gives us love-something to love
He leads us, but when love is grown
To ripeness, that on which il throve
Falls off, and love is left alone"
Miss Landon defines it well in saying
"I.ove is a pearl Of purest hue.
But stormy waves are round il,
And dearly may woman rue
The hour that first she foHnd it,"
or Grst-born love Bulwer tells his expert.
ence thus;
g Iato my heart silent look
Flashed from thy careless eyes,
And what before was shadow, took
The light Of summer skies.