For the Southern Literary Messenger.
REMEMBER ME, LOVE.
By the late Mrs. ANN ROY, of Mathews county, Virginia.
| When afar thou art roaming love, In sunny climes where maidens' eyes Beam bright as their own glowing skies, Where lofty domes and scented bowers Gleam with the golden orange flowers; And many a column and fallen fane Tell of Italia's buried fame: Oh! then remember me, love! When woo'd by the proud and gay, love, And mirthful smiles and voices sweet, As angel's lutes united meet Thy eager ear, thy raptured glance, As they pass thee by in the joyous dance, Ah pause and think of the lonely one, Whose bosom throbs for thee alone: Oh! then remember me, love! Fame's glittering wreath allures thee, love; Ah, when thou bindest it round thy brow, And heartless crowds around thee bow; When stern ambition's meed is won, Ah, think of her who urged thee on To climb the proudest height of fame, And carve thyself a deathless name: Oh! then remember me, love! And should grief or death assail me, love, While thou art o'er the dark blue wave, And carest not to soothe or save, My latest sigh shall be breathed for thee, On my fading lips thy name shall be, And my dying words shall be a prayer To heaven that thou mayest love me there: Oh! then remember me, love! |
For the Southern Literary Messenger.
TO SARAH.
| When melancholy and alone, I sit on some moss-covered stone Beside a murm'ring stream; I think I hear thy voice's sound In every tuneful thing around, Oh! what a pleasant dream. The silvery streamlet gurgling on, The mock-bird chirping on the thorn, Remind me, love, of thee. They seem to whisper thoughts of love, As thou didst when the stars above Witnessed thy vows to me;— The gentle zephyr floating by, In chorus to my pensive sigh, Recalls the hour of bliss, When from thy balmy lips I drew Fragrance as sweet as Hermia's dew, And left the first fond kiss. In such an hour, when are forgot, The world, its cares, and my own lot, Thou seemest then to be, A gentle guardian spirit given To guide my wandering thoughts to heaven, If they should stray from thee. |
SYLVIO.