For the Southern Literary Messenger.
LINES
Written in the Village of A——, Virginia.
| Sweet village of the mountain glen! Thy verdant shades are dear to me; I shun the busy haunts of men, And to thy peaceful bosom flee; For smiling nature's summer home Is found beside thy flashing rills, And when the winter-tempests come, She reigns upon thy rugged hills. Upon thy rocks the tow'ring pine, The hemlock and the cedar grow; And high the wild and flow'ring vine, Its tendrils round their branches throw. 'Tis sweet to stray thy paths along, Beside some bright and rippling stream Whose waters with a murm'ring song, Glance gaily in the sunny beam. Through distant lands my feet may roam, In foreign climes my dwelling be, Unchang'd where'er I make my home, My heart will still abide with thee. Yes! still with thee, in joy or woe, On desert land, or stormy sea, In pain or bliss, where'er I go, My love will ever dwell with thee. |
A. L. B.
For the Southern Literary Messenger.
Extracts from the Auto-biography of Pertinax Placid.