Natchitoches spectator. [volume] (Natchitoches, La.) 1867-18??, 1868-04-23
[For the Natchitoches Spectator.
The saddess Ruin of the Storm.
RY MANY q. BRYAN.

BY MARY l.. BRYAN
E'.You have seen from the papers that Mr. Davis
has been among us. There were no demonstra
tons. The welcome he received was earnest, bu
grave and quiet Our young people brought hin
presents of flowers, and our women welcomed hin
with smiles, which thy stroye not 10 mar witt
sadness Mr.. Davis on his part, seemed Cheerful !
yet when the light of his peculiar smile, or tht
animation called up by conversation, had faded
from his eountenance one could see what lock
IF weary sadness there was in his eyes. '-EntrGd
from a Priyate letter.
Ave. bring your flowers his hands to greet
And bring your sm | 5 his glance to meet
And tears-but these he i'll can brook
The soul that stormy changes shook
Still wears its iron shield of pride
And will till life is thrown aside.
But bring the farest smiles and flowers,
That shine meath these sad skies of ours;
They will not charm the memories
That haunt the darkness of his eyes,
That from his lonely breast arise
As phautoms from the midnight deep
And form the burden Of his signs,
And bid the the tears he will not weep,
Burn in his sad and aching eyes
In hours when lesser spirits sleep.
Your smiles but mind him of the beam
OF bright applause that gid his dream,
Your flowers speak to him of the graves
That roll the Thousand verdant waves
From inland plain to ocean caves
Tie graves of valor, hope and youth.
Who died to make his home truth
OH many ruin marks the path
Where sword and fire have swept the land
Lost gIory's melancholy wrath
Those blasted ruins stand
The frowning towers Of warke pride
THAT wave and tempest had de6ed
The spired lane the granite nali,-
Now, ashen heap, or backened wall,
Alone their former state recall,
And yet, this man so frail, 50 bowed,
'iboIs,rf st viii n bparinu hirh ind DrOu1
Him of the deep, mysterious sye
That ever seems 10 see his fate
Creep like steathy lion nigh,
Yet seems its power to defy
And smile to scorn its hungry bate
I hold this thunder-smitten form
The grandcst ruin of the storm
For think you of his hour of pride,
Before the shadow of eclipse,
When Hope--the prophet, opened vile
a vision of Apocalypse.
An Eden of the earth--the flower
OF every realm beneath the sky
Peerless in splendor, art, and power
Rose radiant on his raptured eye
A land Of glory, wit and gold
Beneath the Southern sul unrolled.
Think you, he saw himself the crown,
And centre Of that mighty scheme,
And heard loud paeans floating down
The silver current Of his dream?
1t may be, for ambitions fame
Had burned from boyhood on his breast,
And yet no vulSar greed of fame
Could dim his high heroic crest;
No his wider hops his soul
Embraced the glory of the whole
Saw peace enlink her hand with power,
And plenty pour golden shower.
And honor hold the keys of State,
And art throw wide her marble gate,
Aud chivalry and genius claim
Their guerdon at the hands of fame;
Saw free and perfect empire won,
Times weary ages backward run,
And Arthur's reign again begun.
Such was the dream that wrapped him round
Anu shut him from the tbckenirg gloom,
While nearer thundets shook the ground
The footsteps of approaching doom
Yet uudsmayed, though one by one,
TIE pillars of the State were riven,
He fixed his steadfast eyes upon
The hope he deemed divinely given
The hope that dreaming boyhood first
In still and lovely visions nursed-
That manhood famed to high desire.
Until it flashed in words of fire,
And leapt from thrilling brain to BRAIN,
And broke in thunder on the main
And swept storm of hammered pride
On Southern plato and mountain side
With eyes that flashed with fiery zeal.
And arms that waved the deadly steel,
4dnd music sounding peal on peal.
When is love deformedl When it is
all on one side.