San Marcos free press. [volume] (San Marcos, Tex.) 1877-1892, 1878-09-07
THE RIVER. SAN MARCOS.
By MoLiIr .. MOORE.

| Br MoLiIr 3. nooRs.
Far DER the hills and toward the dying day.
Set like heart, . living heart. deep. deep
Within the bosom Of Its wide prairies,
Lies the Valley Of San Marcos. And there,
A princess reused from slumber by the kiss
Of balmy southern skies, the river springs
From out her rocky bed, and hastens on
Far down the vale, to give her royal hand
In marriage 70 the waiting Guadalups.
Like some grim giant keeping silent watch.
W bile from his feet his recreant daughter files,
Above the hoary mountain stands, his head
Encircled by an emerald pointed crown !,
OF csdsrs. strong as those Of Lebanon,
That bow their sombre crests, and WOO the wind.
Drunken with fragrance FROM the vale below
About his brow, set like dusky chain,
The mystic Race -Raths run-his amulet
Aud nestled squarely 'gainst his rugged bresst,
Perched quantity 'nong the great searred rocks
that hang S- a
Like tolnbstones on the mouutaIn-side. ths nsH
The FALCON built still fingers, though the wing
That swept the gathering dust from on our shield,
Hath long since dropped to dustlS .s
Now wooed by dusky glooms on, either side,
Now whirng round the craggy banks, now stayed
| by tangled vines that stretch their arms across,
The river plideth farther from her sire.
Bel0w, an ancient MILL, with laggard wheels,
| ls niirrorsi IN her CLASSY depths, and broad
The mii.race reaches out his arms, all decked
With stones, and fringed with purple flags,
And strives TO bar her onward cOurse-in vain,
For, nerved with sudden fear, she springs, and
bright
Her rainbow garments glitter In the sun,
AS OH she pants toward the shallow ford.
And here. down sloping to the waters marge,
The fields, ali golden with the harvest, come
And hoie, the horseman. refining In his stsed,
| At eve, will pause and mark the village spires
CLEAN golden in the setting sun, and far
| Across deeply. .furrowed field will glance
| With idle eye upon stately hill.
That girt with cedars, rises like king,
To mark the further limit OF the field.
Twas there, between the hill and river, stood
A shaded cottage; and its roof was low
And dark, and vines that twned the porch but
served
To hide the bleakness of its wall. But then
Twas home, and "Heaoen is near us IN our
chitdhcOd."
And was but o child and summer days,
That since have oiientimes seemed long and sad,
That sent my brothers. fairy bark. vel. balanced.
| In safety down the Iiver's tide. Alasl
Is there, can there be aught in all the world
To s0othe the sick soll to such perfect rest TO-
As filled its early dreamsi Is there no fount,
Like that Of old 80 mady sought by LEoN,
Where the worn soul may ba'be and rise renewed
And up and down the banks before our door,
Now gathering up the yellow lily buds,
That lay like golden flagons on the stream,
Now idly bending down the ragged sedge
That rustled In the lazy summer breeze,
And now among the grape. vines, where they hung
In light festoOns above the water edge,
With careless step roamed.
Well remember,
Down where the river makes sudden bend,
Below the ford, and near the dusky road,
Upon her bosom sleeps q fairy isle,
Entwined about with snowy alder.boughs
Ana tapestred with vines that isore flower
Whose petals looked like drops OF blood
1--WE called Il Lady Of the Bleeding Hearty
Aud through 1t wandered little careless paths.
That writhed like wounded snases among the beds
OF tufted grass; and o'er this living gem
The very. skies seemed blner, and the waves,
That rippled round 1t, threw up brighter spray.
Upon the banks Tor hours I've stood, and longed .
To bask amid its shades; and w,en at last
My brother dragged, with wondrsns care. his boat,
Rude ashioned small and furnished with one oar,
cross the long slope from the stately hill
Where II was built, ne'er did Columbus heart
Beat with throb 80 wild upon that shore,
Unknown to any save to him. as ours
When, with o'erweared bands and labored breath.
We steered in safety o'er the dangerous way,
And stood the monarchs Of that fairy realm
My brother, how wish our wayward feet
Once more could feel that lordly prde-our hearts
Once more know all their cravings satisfied!
Sweet Valley of San Marcos few are the years
That since have linked their golden hands and fled
Like spirits down the valley OF the past
And yet it seems a weary time to me!
sweet River OF San Marcos! the openings seen
Between the moss hung trees, like gelden paths
That lead through Eden to Heavens falrer fields,
Show glmpses Of the broad, free, boundless plains
That circle thee around. Thine own prairiesl
h ow my sad spirit would eXult to bathe
Its wings, all heavy with the dust Of care.
Deep in their glowing beauty! How my heart,
O'ershadowed with this cloud Of gloom, would
wake
To life anew beneath those summer skies!
NY home IL nestled now among the hills,
I he wooded hills. like those OF that fair State,
That queen among the daughters OF the South.
That gave-m birth and gayly fits the breeze
Among the boughs Of oaks whore trunks
Are welded with the rings Of centuries:
And naples, cloaked like princes. wave their flags
Above the serried armies OF the fern.
That march along the forest stream, where low
The beeches sweep their brightly cleaning leaves;
nd one tall pine, sentinel, keeps watch
Before my very door.
The trees, the forest -treesi Ny heart beats full
And high beneath their stately limbs And yet,
At times methinks our mountain air seems thick
nd the green tresses Of ont forest trees,
They choke nv very breathingl Then, then
I Z in would spurn my native shades, and fain
Would sweep with untamed wing across the broad
boundless praries OF the West. and breathe
Nv freedom back beneath unshAdowed skies
Oh, RIVER Of my childhood ! fair Valley -Queeni
Within thy bosom vet at morn the sun
Dips deep his silver beams. and on toy tide
At night, the stars the yelcw stars, are mirrored;
Throegh emerald marshes yet thine eddies curl,
nd yet that fairy isle in beauty sleeps
(Like her Of old who waits the waking kiss
Of some true knight to b. eak her magic sleepD
nd yet, heavy with purple cups, the fags
Troop down toward the Mil Bat oh.
No more will wander by thy shores. nor hoat
At twilight down thy CLASSY tidei-no more.
A nd vet, San Marcos, WHEN some river-fiower,
All .vooning with iis nectar drops. Is laid
Before ny eyes. its beauty sesrcs ~ seen
For teas which stain ny eyelids, and Tor dreams
which glide before Of thy fairy charms,
And swell ny heart with longing,
Sweet River Or San Marcos
WE have heard frequent inquiries as
to what has become of the San Mar
.os hand The followiur from the |