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SOUTHERN LITERARY GAZETTE: 3ln illustrated tUeeklg Journal of Belles-Ccttres, Science and ti)c Jlrts. H M. C. RICHARDS, EDITOR. (Original JJoctrn. For the Southern Literury Gazette. GLORIA TIBI DOMINE! BY LEILA CAMERON. Darkly round my drooping head Hangs the cloud of human woe; Weary is the path I tread, Gathering blackness as I go: Still I faint not on the way, For my trust is fixed on Thee— On the cross my hopes I stay— Gloria tibi Dornine! Few and ill have been the days Os my sojourn here on earth ; Soon are spent life’s fleeting rays— Quickly grief succeeds to mirth. Brightest joys are tinged with gloom, Sweetest pleasures soonest flee; But I look beyond the tomb, Gloria tibi Dornine ! Life deceitful is at best, Thorns are hidden ’mid its flowers; Here I find nor peace, nor rest — O’er me still the storm-cloud lowers. But along this thorny road, Jesus bore the Cross for me; Suffering here he long abode, Gloria tibi Dornine ! What though earthly hope may fail, Friends prove false, and kindred die, Human succor naught avail, Iu the hour of agony 1 Keener pangs, our blessed Lord Bore in dark Gethsemane— Ever be his name adored, Gloria tibi Dornine! Nothing want I here on earth, While my Saviour proves my friend; All things else are little worth— On his love my hopes depend ! Love like Ilis, divinely *rcat, Never can forgotten be; Meekly I His coming wait, Gloria tibi Dornine! When my earthly race is o’er, And this weary, aching head, Free from pain forevermore, Peaceful slumbers with the dead — Joyful shall my spirit rise, Through a priceless ransom free, Ringing, as it upward flies — Gloria tibi Dornine! i • i For the Southern Literary Gazette. IMMORTALITY. BY WILLIAM C. RICHARDS. ITow vain is Life, whose boundary is hid t # In the dark shadows which enfold the tomb That hath no eye of Faith to pierce the gloom That wraps the form beneath the coffin-lid. Oh, vain, indeed! though crowned with honors here, If to no glorious Future it aspires— If Earth can fill the sum of its desires; And all beyond the grave a blank appear! Yet Human Wisdom its disciples taught That it was all of life to live —that Death Was an eternal sleep, and with the breath Ceased all the springs of Action and of Thought! By Revelation’s light alone we see Rife's high fruition— Immortality ! For the Southern Literary Gazette. DREAMING MOMENTS. BY “SAMIVEL,” OF SAVANNAH. I dream of hopes bright while thoy last, Os love and friendship true ; The sweet, glad voices of the past — Os childhood’s sky so blue: And all to me is bright and fair, save the changing touch of time — 1 may not rest in sorrow's shade, for my heart is in its primo. I dream of Love’s gay plumed wing, Resting where all is fair; And sweet thoughts which the angels bring, Live for another's care : ATHENS, GEORGIA, SATURDAY, OCTOBER 2s, ISIS. ■ A flower-thatched cottage by a stream of purest crystal dew, And a maiden rises in my dream with love-lit eye of blue. I dream of Friendship’s brightest smile, Its gentle, guarded voice, Waking the heart to joy the while, And bidding it rejoice: And I clasp the hand of earth’s dear friends in this my sunniest dream, And the moments I have smiled with them pass like a rippled stream. The sweet, glad voices of the past, And childhood’s sky so blue — The former hushed by time’s rude blast, The latter’s clouded view— Are sweet withal to dream upon, for they waken childhood’s bliss; Oh ! what would Love or Friendship be, did memory not give this 1 My Father! thou who gavest me These sweet and thrilling dreams, And pourest out so pure, so free, Thoughts dear as heaven’s gleams: For these, I thank thee, Father, and be this mine earnest prayer — “ Let not my heart grow cold and sad, but keep me in thy care!” ©riginal Sale. For the Southern Literary Gazette. THE FEUD OF— THE ROMANS AND SABINES. BY CAROLINE HOWARD. It is of Rome —but not of her palaces and meridian, her villas and costly baths, of her triumphant heroes, that this tale treats, nor of her luxuriant vineyards, delicious fruits, and ornamental gardens, nor of the Appenine country-seats, and the purple and velvet of her imperial sovereigns. No libraries owned by the rich patrician as yet adorned her edi fices, and no fountains threw their cooling waters with pleasant murmurs into the clas sic marble basin. Luxury, with its pamper ing and never-ending wants, had scarcely in troduced its thousand refinements, and the golden tables, the silver couches, and scented oils, with the voluptuous tastes of a later date, had not as yet degraded to the condition of the votaries of mere animal pleasure the people of this far-famed city. So far, her inhabitants were incorrupt, at least with refinements and luxuries, and a mong the “banditti” with whom policy had peopled her boundaries, a few noble hearts were beating with impulses which descended in after years to the good, the noble, and the brave. Romulus, by united acclamation, had just been elected sovereign magistrate of Rome.— Already had all the insignia of royalty suited to the simplicity of that era, been bestowed upon him. His imposing body-guard of lie tors had been instituted to enforce his com | mands. The senate, with its pomp and pow | er and its hundred wise men, thundered over ! the neighboring provinces their newly enact -led laws; the patricians, proud of their grow ing power, thought themselves second only to kings, and kept down the plebeian “ hewers of wood and drawers of water.” who were, at least in outward appearance, resigned, and who bowed themselves to the recently passed and enacting laws. The bitter spirit of after times had not as yet burst into a flame. The people of other countries heard of the fame of j this young nation, and coveted a share in her growing • popularity. Men crowded to her j walls, where all seemed prosperity. A hap j py dawn and a happier twilight, each morn ing and each evening, shed their influence ; around. The equal distribution of labor and amusement encouraged the lower classes, while the aristocrat longed to revel in the magnificence and luxury which he could per ceive advancing in the future. Such was the aspect outwardly ; but Avho can judge of the inner view, the working and contending fires of a sleeping volcano! A shadow, or a darkness denser than a shadow, gathered over the faces of the proud youths. Many a lip was curled in scorn or revenge, many a hand closed and was clenched with thoughts of vengeance, while now and then softer emotions of disappointed anticipations gave a pensive shade to the visage of some more gentle youth. The cause of this revengeful or downcast spirit, was a rejection of a proposition from their king, Romulus, to his powerful neigh bors, the Sabines, to grant their fair daughters in marriage to the Romans. But the Sabines, jealous, warlike and conservative, returned a message of scorn, and refused compliance with this request. This was the reason of the sudden anger, the awakened volcano, the thought of unrequited love, in a whole body of young and impassioned heroes. What was the light of heaven to them without the smile of woman, or what was pomp, or fame, or glory! On a declivity of one of the, as yet, unpeo pled hills of Rome, stood Silvius, in the pride and beauty of early manhood, musing in list less mood on this sad state of things. The Palatine hill of the eternal city lay before him, and the square-built tow T n of Rome rose up busy and animated in his view. He had drawn his toga closely around him, and his sandalled feet wilh a hurried movement paced to no i fro. He had been intensely interested in regard to the treaty with the Sabines, for he had been one of the deputies who were sent to seek the alliance, and at that time, at a feast in honor of one of their gods, had be held the object of his present thoughts, Julia, the proud and haughty Sabine; and the fate of his affections by that view was sealed.— Hopeful and loving, therefore, he awaited the expected compliance, and now the reverse had come to blast his hopes forever, while she, unconscious of his love and devotion, as of her own loveliness, gave not a thought to him. Dark intentions entered his brain, and clouded for a moment his countenance —but they gave way to an expression of tender ness, beautiful as the skies on which a rain bow is painted. No wicked or revengeful thought lingered there, but enduring, suffering affection, bowed for an instant his manly and symmetrical form. To him she was, and ever would be, his only love, and with the idea that no one could deny him the privilege of hoarding her image in his breast, he slowly turned to leave the spot. It is a pitiable sight when the young heart j sighs for companionship, and seeks and finds : it not. The moon sheds her hallowed light \ upon but a feeble worshipper of her bright- j ness, if that worshipper has not a companion j to call upon for sympathy. The skies lose half their glory when one views them alone. J The waves, as they flow onward with glad ness in the bound, rejoice together in their freedom. There are few things under heaven j entirely alone. The mother, with her child ! on he* bosom, is happy, and has her world around her. The husband, as he gazes on the charms of the beloved one, is contented. In those two so united is concentrated one- | ness, but oh! how wide apart from loneliness. | A man or woman, a vestal virgin or a priest, in a state of so-called blessedness, apart from the world, are far from being alonefor they create around them an atmosphere of sympa- ; VOLUME I*—NUMBER 25. thy. The song of a pet bird, the color of a cherished flower, send a thrill to their hearts which is joy. It is joy, because they feel that they are not entirely forsaken, that the song gushes out for them, and that were it not for their care, the flower would not un fold its velvet leaves to the sunshine. Scarce had Silvius advanced many paces, when he beheld the figure of a man a little beyond the age set apart as the boundary of youth. He possessed a face which might have been called handsome, but for the bad passions which disfigured it. A form, ele gant and graceful, and above the common height, was dilated with anger, and an ex pression such as fiends might rejoice in, seem ed to emanate from his eyes. Over all reign ed a look of fixed determination, which shut out all the softer feelings of the heart. “ My friend,” said Silvius calmly, but with almost a shudder at his presence as he con fronted him, “can you not hear this event tranquilly and manfully, or in a few words,” he added, with a sad smile, “as a Roman should I” A hoarse whisper of vengeance was the only reply. “We will seek our king,” continued Sil* vius, “ and see what can be done in this fear ful strait.” The two men strode on silent and thought ful. As soon as they entered the city, they found that gladiatorial amusements were in progress, and mixed with the crowd, many of whom were devoting their fellow men to death. Day expired, and left the wounded and dying uncared for, or only ministered to with the hope that at some future period they would renew their inhuman sport. It Vras not then the custom, as it became m the course of time, to establish schools for these victims, who were bred and perfected in this wretched accomplishment, for the express purpose of adding to the popular thirst for blood. In a few days after the answer before al luded to was returned, and which had kindled a fire never quite to be smothered, a stroke of policy worthy of a better cause had been planned. Romulus himself, with all the ar dor of twenty summers, under pretence of a feast in honor of Neptune, had invited the in habitants of the adjoining villages, together with the unsuspecting Sabines, to enjoy with them this unique and gorgeous specta cle. Preparations on a more magnificent scale than had yet been attempted, followed this announcement, and all the amusements of the age were put in requisition for the ex pected rejoicings. When the real intention of the king was made known to the chosen band, the proposi tion was received with different feelings, and while some hailed the occasion ■with a burst 1 of joy, others there were who looked with ! mistrust on an adventure in which they fear !ed they must fail. However, they hoped at last to possess their scornful and beautiful ! neighbors. The most lovely of the Sabine women were to be surprised in the midst of their feasting and enjoyment, to be captured, and to become the wives of the triumphant Romans. A thrill at first stole to the heart of Silvius, succeeded by a sense of shame at being about to commit an act of injustice; but he vowed, even while he coveted, that no unjust act be yond that of the planned abduction, should be shown by him towards her he loved so well. To win her love was the boundary of his wishes, and his heart beat high with youthful hope. But far different was the mood of the haughty Valerius. Revenge, like an incubus, brooded over his stormy