Passing Thoughts on Love.
The ancient poets sang a love
Whose spell of wild and fiery power
Ruled men below, and gods above,
And conquered in its burning hour.
The wine-cup’s rich delicious draught
Ne’er maddened more the reeling brain,
Or filled the heart so full, when quaffed,
With ecstacy akin to pain.
Then like a dream it passed away,
A fervid vision of the night,
Till some bright beauty’s potent sway
Awoke again the fierce delight.
Such might be passion’s wayward course
That flashes like the lightning’s gleam;
But ne’er was love, whose fountain-source
Sends ever forth a constant stream.
True love is like the stars on high
That shine with undiminished ray,
And glows all warm and fervently
As does the splendid orb of day.
Naught but the beauty of the soul,
Arrayed in virtue’s peerless dress,
Can pure love waken, or controul
The bosom with its loveliness.
It is the glorious bond of life
That joins two kindred souls in one;
And when they meet, amid earth’s strife,
The same bright path they journey on.
Heart yields to heart a living strength,
And thought to thought increase of light,
Until their happy days at length
Well nigh partake of heaven’s delight.
’Tis not the high and manly brow
Enlinked to beauty’s witching charm,
Can make such deep-soul’d passion glow,
Or keep it from decay and harm.
The pure in heart, the pure in thought,
Alone such inward union gain;
And by the law in heaven wrought
Such souls can never more be twain.
Alas! for earth where love is sold
For station, honour, pride, and power;
Bartered for fame, betrayed for gold,
And often scarcely lasts an hour.
Yet some there be who do partake
A measure of this love divine;
Then such deep love, for love’s pure sake,
Oh may I own, or none be mine!
The smiling look, and cheerful playfulness,
Continued through the piece. But many found
A loftier element pervade the song,
And deeper sentiments than they had deemed
Indwellers of such theme. When he had done
He cast around a furtive glance to see
The influence of his verse. All faces wore
A look of bland approval. One alone
Hung bending down, as if to mark the bloom
Of rosy flowerets in the rich bouquet
That beautified her bosom. Did her cheek
Catch deeper crimson from their loveliness
That made it glow so brightly? Sooth to tell
There was a hue like that of sunset clouds
Which fluttered sweetly there. It might be caught
By strong reflection from those happy flowers
Which hung upon that breast; or it might spring
From thoughts still happier, nestled warm within,
Whose stirring motions made the pure blood flow
More freely o’er that cheek. Were such the truth,
It might betoken sympathy of soul
With those high sentiments, and with the heart
That gave them utterance. Young Arthur long
Had deemed her beautiful, and she to him
Had moved a star of light; but mutual words
Of loving import had not yet revealed
Their hearts unto each other. With a glance
Of quick delight, like to the lambent flash
Of summer lightning, he beheld that blush,
So meek and rosy, and with instinct true
His soul divined its meaning. With a word
Of rapid whisper in Matilda’s ear,
He bad that sister hasten to bring forth
Her promised verse; whilst he awhile withdrew
From the gay circle, that in solitude
He might indulge the overpowering thought
Which filled his raptured breast. His joy intense,
No words could tell; whilst now in soul convinced
That Emma’s noble and susceptive heart
Was his for ever! Shortly he returned
With looks elate, and joys delightful glow
On his proud countenance. When he rejoined
His father’s guests, his sister had not yet
Commenced her promised task. With timid heart
And shrinking feeling, she awhile forbore
In modest diffidence; for she was one
Of tender nature, of affections warm,
And delicately sensitive of soul.
Her truth of heart, and nobleness of thought,
Made her abhor all wrong. Her simple mind,
As clear as crystal, made her ever love
Simplicity in all things. Hence she chose
To frame a ballad of domestic scenes
And their endearments. In a gentle voice,
Replete with feeling, she began to read
A tale of rural life, of fervent passion,
That bore inscribed the humble name of—