The Southern Literary Messenger, Vol. II., No. 11, October, 1836

THE
DEVOTED TO
Au gré de nos desirs bien plus qu'au gré des vents. Crebillon's Electre . As we will, and not as the winds will.
RICHMOND: T. W. WHITE, PUBLISHER AND PROPRIETOR. 1835-6.
EDITORIAL

VOL. II. RICHMOND, OCTOBER, 1836. NO. XI.
T. W. WHITE, PROPRIETOR. FIVE DOLLARS PER ANNUM.

BY LINDLEY MURRAY. 1
1 These verses, printed from an original MS. of Lindley Murray, and, as we believe, never before published, present that celebrated grammarian in an entirely new point of view, and give him strong claims to the character of a poet. A sister of Mr. Murray married, we think, one of the Hoffmans of New York, and it is possible some of that highly respected family may have in their possession some other metrical pieces from his pen. It is somewhat remarkable that the present lines involve an odd grammatical error of construction in the concluding stanza.
When on thy bosom I recline, Enraptur'd still to call thee mine, To call thee mine for life; I glory in the sacred ties, Which modern wits and fools despise, Of Husband and of Wife. One mutual flame inspires our bliss; The tender look, the melting kiss, Even years have not destroyed; Some sweet sensation, ever new, Springs up and proves the maxim true, That Love can ne'er be cloy'd. Have I a wish?—'tis all for thee, Hast thou a wish?—'tis all for me. So soft our moments move, That angels look with ardent gaze, Well pleas'd to see our happy days, And bid us live—and love. If cares arise—and cares will come— Thy bosom is my softest home; I'll lull me there to rest: And is there ought disturbs my fair? I'll bid her sigh out every care, And lose it in my breast. Have I a wish?—'tis all her own, All hers and mine are roll'd in one— Our hearts are so entwin'd, That, like the ivy round the tree, Bound up in closest amity, 'Tis Death to be disjoin'd.