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WM. C. RICHARDS, EDITOR. ©rtginal Jpoetni. For the Southern Literary Gazette. EXHORTATION. 15 Y W . GILMORE SIMMS, E SN* . L. Why by these forests linger, When there the ocean spreads, And still the sun’s bright finger, Rich gleam- of promise sheds ; Here wouldst thou struggle vainly, Thy better powers unknown ; Or, spent in toils ungainly, Thyself unloved, alone ! ii. Alone is still the mortal, Who, born to lead his kind, To Truth’s mysterious portal, Still leaves them far behind ; • They follow, but they madden That he should still be first; And curse the gifts that gladden, And hate the giver worst! ill. How gladly could you show them, That he who guides them now, Stood, in his youth, below them Would they rejoice to know! They rather see how feebly His master-sway began, Than now to watch how ably He rules the realms olrnan ! For the Southern Literary Gazette. PRESS FORWARD! BY WM . C. RICHARDS. Three ships for weary months had sailed Upon a sea unknown, Till hope grew weak and courage failed In every heart save one; The sailors trembled lest that sea Should be their cold, dark grave, And homeward urged their lord to flee, Their lives and his to save ! But courage filled his lofty soul That could not bow to fear, And glory pointed to his goal, And whispered it was near : He heeded not the murmured wrath Os his affrighted crew ; But forward on his ocean path • Pressed with devotion true ! The sun went down, to him, that night, Not in the deep blue sea; — Anew world lay within his sight, His vast discovery ! Columbus quailed not when Despair Sought to appal his soul : “Press forward” was his watchword there, And lo! the wondrous goal ! Oh brother! whosoe’er thou art, And whatsoe’er thy aim, From this example still take heart Press forward thou the same. And when desponding thoughts arise To fill thy heart with fear. Look up, and let the glorious prize Thy fainting fi>otstep cheer. Press forward! though the way be dark, And Fear may whisper “ Stay.” Thy footstep may strike out a spark ’ To bless thee with its ray. Press forward! till the light appear ’Twill all the sooner gleam As he who travels east draws near ‘file day’s advancing beam ! For the Southern Literary Gazette. ACROSTIC. Written Impromptu. L ach joy surround thee that thy heart desires; L ove warm thy bosom with its purest fires; !1 n all thy pathway Pleasure’s sunshine rest, Ingenuous feelings dwell within thy breast; weet Peace her influence around thee shed, Bnduring still when other joys are dead! n JUustratefr tllecklg Journal of Bellcs-Cettrea, Science aißr tf)e 2lrts. S’ “ ‘ Founj.J i a Fictia Mrt, FmC History. And he, what doth he here 1 Lara. A king’s face should show grace. Old Prov. > In the green forest, and the horn iSp?A Echoed the wild, victorious shout ■ tiV i Os mail-clad chiefs, whose pennons stream’d, CWPCfl.ij[ And strong and steel-bound armour gleam’d, jjy Brightly, as when they cross’d the sea The war was o’er, the conquest won, And now, unto his palace proud ( iju. King Charlemagne, Gaul’s noblest son ! Summon’d a glad and joyous crowd ; And never did a feast more gay / ‘V cAdA In court ox princely bower hold sway, \ Than the full banquet of delight .Spread for his chosen guests that night. 11. Soft music waved its viewless wing, And on the night breeze seem’d to soar, R are foreign scents lay glistering Upon the polish’d marble floor ; A hundred lamps shed glorious showers Os light, upon the broider’d flowers Os the rich tapestries’ silken loom, That spread around a cloud of gloom. But most, far most the clear lamps shone On one spot of that chamber wide, Where Charlemagne sat on his throne, With bands of warriors at each side ; While at his feet on cushions low Os ermine, pure and white jus snow, Leant one, the least glance of whose eye, Were worth a world of poesy. Lovely she was, and well might be, The deity of that full shrine ; And as each courtier bent the knee To Avin her gaze, ’twas half divine ; For all she sung, on all she smiled, And with such converse SAveet beguiled, That ’mongst those warriors, there Avere none, But deem’d she might be Avoo’d and won. But as in yonder crystal sky A single planet glitters clear, Yet tremblingly, Avith half-closed eye, As if it held its place in fear ; So Love, that sun-gem of the soul, Into young Imma’s being stole, And Eginhard, the brave and true, Was the lone star that rose to vie Av. With cloudless broAv, she softly strung Her silver lute to measure gay, And, at her father’s bidding, sung A light and airy roundelay; And once amid the dance’s maze She Avon that crowd’s admiring gaze, As eagerly they watch’d how all Her steps kept time to music’s fall. The hours grew long ; and joyous hope Was clouded o’er with boding fear; And yielding to dark fancies’ scope, She murmur el oft, “ He is not here !” Till feverish, restless, sick at heart: She Avander’d from each group apart, And hid her cheek, now groAvn too pale, W ithin her full and snoAvy veil. But steps approach’d, and at her side Appear’d a fair and slender boy; And in the excess of bliss she sigh’d, And clasp’d her small white hands in joy, As bending on his knee, with cheek Through which the warm blood seem’d to speak, He proffered, ere he shrunk away, Os fresh cull’d flowers, a rich bouquet. ATHENS, GEORGIA, SATURDAY, JUNE 3, ISIS. 111. Full many a pang Love brings, ’t is said, To the heart, where it lights its flame ; * Doubt, fear, despair are poisons dread, That borrow its witching name ; Yet go wherever the sun warms earth, From the day of its mystic birth, And vain’t will be to seek that heart That would yield up its certain dart. With burning cheek, and downcast eye, And limbs that shook, as ’neath some spell, Young Imma loos’d its silken tie, And soon her eager vision fell Upon the hidden scroll, that bound The Provence roses all around ; And as she read, one might have heard Her heart beat faster at each word. “ Meet me at midnight,” thus it ran, “ Within that ever blessed place, Where first my yearning heart began To read affection in thy face ; Some foul mistrust, my best beloved ! Thy kingly sire ’gainst me hath proved, And much I plead this interview, To prove indeed that I am true.” An hour past by, and they had met Within a small, secluded room ; Where one pale lamp, in silver set, Shed all around a purple gloom, That formed a contrast faint and slight Unto the damp and starless night, Which haply only served to aid Ilim, whom the moon would have betray and. I cannot write, why need I speak All the deep eloquence of love 1 The mute caress, the blushing cheek, The looks, ten thousand words above ; The confidence, yet full of shame, With which she owned the magic flame, The smile, the stolen kiss, the sigh, That told her heart’s idolatry. Both, both were young—no chilling showers Os doubt and fear had fallen on, And wither’d those frail passion-flowers That bloom and ope, beneath Love’s sun ; But as on some fair morn of Spring, Dew, on each bud, lies glistening, So Hope shook scented waters o’er The bright imaginings each bore. Alas ! ’t was but a little while That season calm was doom’d to last; And soon from Imma’s lip the smile, And jest, and fancy, all had past, As Eginhard, in accents sad, Todd of the dark decree that had That very morning reach’d his ear, And fill’d his spirit with despair. VOLUME I.—NUMBER 4. *‘l fear’d it would he so,” he said ; “ Proud Charlemagne has harshly spum’d My eager suit, that we should wed ; And e’en till now my spirit burn’d With the rude glances of contempt He lavished on me ; “ I ne’er dreamt,” These were his words, “ that thou, a churl, Wouldst seek to win my glorious girl /” “ Yet, weep not, Imma, weep not thus ! The. path of glory opens wide, And if kind fate but smile on us, Good, and not evil, may betide ; A scholar ’neath thy father’s dome, Too long I’ve poured o’er each loved tome, Deeming, that in the book of fame, The student poor a place might claim. “ That thought is o’er, that dream is past, That hope, like yonder star, hath set; And now this night must be our last, (Ah ! yield not to grief’s tempest yet,) For with the gathering ranks of war, That claim fresk soldiers from afar Thy lover goes, to win for thee, The prize of noblest chivalry.” A wail of passionate lament Was Imma’s only answer, as In utter hopelessness, she leant (>n Eginhard ;oh ! sorrow has No bitter drop within its cup Like that the heart of youth drinks up, When, in its feeling’s fullest swell, ’Tis called to breath the word, Farewell. The hours past by ; they heeded not Time’s pinions, as he onward swept, But brooding o’er their hapless lot, Clasp’d in each other’s arms they wept; Nor thought to part, until the lamp, That lit the chamber, sunk in gloom ; And day-dawn, dark and chill and damp, Shed its first rays throughout the room. But oh ! how did his spirit die, Which had already sunk too low, When, as with blessings, hurriedly, The mournful lover turned to go! He saw around that palace-home, No path through which his steps might roam, For, unobserved, in feathery flight. The snow had fall’n tho livelong night. What could be done I—ah ! now they fear’d Their stolen meeting wonld be known, Since none within the palace dared To tread young Imma’s garden lone; And should the guard, as well they might, Detect a step by morning’s light, Save hers, within that flowery path, Soon would they raise their monarch’s wrath. Sickening with dread, her brow as wan As the pure snow drifts, Imma stood A few brief moments gazing on The scene that curdled her young blood; Till suddenly, a joyous blush, O’er ev’ry feature seem’d to rush, And in the youth’s bewilder’d ear She whisper’d words he would not hear. “ Nay, dearest! thi3 slight arm would break,” He said, and clasped the blue-vein’d wrist, “ For mine, if not for thino own sake”— Young imma pleaded, as he kiss’d The small white hand thatprest his lip, With its soft finger’s rosy tip, Till finding he would not comply, £he sobb’d aloud, convulsively. Tears oft prevail, where smiles are naught; They are the choicest gems of love ; And with his swelling bosom fraught With sympathy, for the fair dove, Who nestled now upon his breast, In grief that would not be represt, Proud Eginhard at last gave way Unto the gentle maiden’s sway Who cannot picture imma’s face, As strengthened b\ alfection’s might, She clasp’d his form of manly grace, As’t were a burden of delight ; And then with ruby lips apart, And cheeks flush’d deep as rose’s heart, Essay’d, with tottering steps, to bear Her lover down the pathway drear. Once, her heart fail’d; but quick she leant ’Gainst the old oak to gasp for life, And with her sweet face downward bent. Curbed Eginhard’s proud spirit’s strife, With, “ ’Tis for my sake, best beloved !” Then smilingly she onward moved, Till when she reached the garden wall, Delicious tears began to fall. “ Now, thou art safe !” she cried and fell, In trembling haste upon his breast; While in her blue eyes lay a spell Os tenderness, all unexprest; Till roused by the now rising sun, hire a brief minute’s space had flown, Tearing herself from his caress, Imma was left in loneliness. Oh! what a memory has Love ! Until the rosy mid-day hour, A single limb seem’d not to move. As resting in her sheltered bower, She wrote upon her heart’s full scroll,. With feeling’s fadeless pencil, all The thousand phantasies that fling Colors, aj from an angel’s wing.