| Methought I heard a whispering on the strings Of hidden harps, in airy form that play, And lend their voice to fair imaginings, And wake young thoughts which in their cradles lay. I wished to set the prisoned minstrels free, Like liberated Ariels to sing, And lend a voice to all that eye could see, From the first dawn of the green light of spring, To the last lowering sweep of winter's stormy wing. |
| William Naylor's MSS. |
| I. |
| A Maiden sang at morn beside a leaping rivulet— Blithe merriment was on her lip and in her eye of jet; Young Spring had shaken from his locks the amethystine beam— O, it was sweet to hear the hymn of forest girl and stream! A pale youth paddled wantonly far o'er a sunny lake, And smiled to see the infant leaf in newborn gladness quake; He had brooded the winter through, until his cheek grew pale With dreaming mighty deeds, and now it freshened in the gale. A white roe wandered where sweet herbs and tender grass were peeping— His snowy head was poised in pride, his chainless heart was leaping; The bugle-bee had called the herd from icy solitude, And he had come at bugle call—fleet centaur of the wood. A robin bowed her golden breast and spread her gauze-wing forth, And aye poured she in carol fond her long imprisoned mirth; No mournful tones, no lute-like wail, were with her music blent; 'Twas—like the fife's shrill voice—a gush of unmixed merriment. |
| II. |
| The maiden wild and rivulet were louder in their glee, The hidden weed waxed lush beneath its woven canopy, Old summer's conch o'er air-waves lured his fragrance-breathing throng, All joy had deepened on the earth, and warmth and light and song. The youth had seen the singing girl and bowed his soul to love; Ambition—aspirations—all the subtle springs that move Man's sleepless youth, were cast aside; old summer's beamy heat Had fired their souls, and low he knelt in fondness at her feet. The roe leapt on: the robin wove her nest of downy hair, And light with bliss high hovered as a blossom floats on air— Girl, brook, and youth had ripened in the gladness born of spring, Joy still inflamed the wild-deer's heart and plumed the wild-bird's wing. |
| III. |
| The marigold and rose had left the valley and the hill, The pansy frail was sere in dust and dead the daffodil; The aster tall yet wore its leaves, the "golden rob" its flowers, But beauty and perfume had gone with summer's radiant hours. From morn to night through forest glades with naught his path to cheer, The roebuck wandered moodily, o'er leaves all crisped and sere; The bird still sang, but bridal song had changed to widow's wail, And mourning she but grieved the more that grief might not avail. But ah! the saddest change of all—the chilling blight had come On hearts within whose holy bowers young love had made his home; The verdure had departed thence, the vermeil tenderness And frosty winds had brought to dust the growth of early bliss. The maiden heard the murmuring stream but murmured no reply, A melancholy coldness dwelt within her shrouded eye, She scarcely heard his burning prayer whose love no change might quell, And only lived enough to breathe an icy "fare-thee-well." |
| IV. |
| The sombre autumn-sky no more sent down its mournful rain, A dim and sickly veil had long o'er hill and hollow lain, But death at last had trampled on the few remaining flowers, All save the restless mandrake died with autumn's last sad hours. The mandrake yet remained, and when the keen frost pierced his breast, Sent forth his voice in agony upon the soughing blast: It told of happiness too ripe, of dewy rapture fled, Of ecstacy, and green of heart, with vanished verdure dead. The quiet snow came lightly through the thick and misty air, And slantingly descended when the cold wind left his lair; The cold wind! aye, the wind had chilled since buoyed on sunny mirth Young Euroauster came to woo the virgin bloom of earth. I saw no more the antlered stag—his rocky solitude Was fitter palace for the king than lea or roofless wood; The robin's song had died away as all things else must die— Death's sleet had bound her ribbed wing and dimmed her gleeful eye. I saw the maiden, but alas! the snow thro' ether gliding, Was not more chill than she, erewhile so tender, so confiding; I saw the youth—to him naught here might honey-balm impart, He wandered from the haunts of men in brokenness of heart. Oh, is there not a sympathy of all-controling power The mother and her brood between—old earth, weak man, frail flower? From some hearts soon the fetters fall, as spring frees lake and river, But many with the withered leaf, wear ruin's chain forever. |
For the Southern Literary Messenger.
LETTERS FROM A SISTER.
MR. WHITE,—
The prominent characters in the following pages are fictitious; but the circumstances narrated are founded on fact, and the descriptions correct. The author was an actor in the scenes, and visited the places described. She has not however, relied solely on her own observations and the oral communications of others, but consulted the best guide books and historical traditions.
LETTER FIRST.
Voyage—Havre de Grace—Light Houses—Frescati Baths, and Sea Bathing—Tower of Francis the First.