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SOUTHERN LITERARY GAZETTE:
•’ ‘’ * * “ • ** • ( V m * * • * •
A WEEKLY JOURNAL OF LITERATURE, SCIENCE AND ART.
WM. ( . RICHARDS, Editor.
©riginat floctn).
For the Southern Literary Gazette.
TO UNA-BELLE.
BY WILLIAM E . DAVIS.
Like a ray of Heaven’s own light
Thy beauteous image bless’tl my sight,
And traced upon my captive heart,
An impress which can ne’er depart;
And now, through day and dreamy night,
It yields to me some frc h delight,
And grants lor aye the magic power
To pluck sweet buds of joy each hour.
*5 • • f >
1 bless the day when first thy lace —
When first thy matchless maiden grace
Shone in sweetness o’er my way,
And seemed to make the world more gay ;
For now all things appear to me
BedeoVd with beauty caught from thc'e,
And Time rolls on h : s happy hours—
Like spring tide airs perfum’d with flowers.
My heart indeed were hardest stone,
Lid it not melt before thy throne,
And feel that every smile from thee
Was like a Fairy’s gift to me ;
And that thy words, which thrill and, along,
Were like FLde's sweetest song.
Oh ! again, m iy‘st thou enchmt my gaze,
Ami like a sun-beam cheer my days.
Columbia, S. C., January, 131?'.
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Popular £alcs.
For the Southern Literary Gazette.
MEMORY AND HOPE:
AN ALBUM SKETCH.
BY W M , E . DAVIS.
Ev elruaiv xpi] rov<; oofyovo ex £LV Uiot’.
[Eukiimdes.
“ The wise with hope support the pains of life.”
“ Spcs tutissiina calls.”
“In Heaven is our safest hope.”
A lovely maiden was seated on the bank
of a beautiful stream. Around her, blooming
in magnificent profusion, were wild flowers
of every description, in form and color. A
noble tree spread the graceful foliage of its
spiral branches above her, and screened her
from the brightrays of a morning’s sun. The
leaves of waving shrubbery, entiellised with
a fringe-like vine, cast their shadows from
the hanks upon the water beneath ; and, as
the soft breeze went whispering by, it gave
to the glassy surface of the ring-like eddies
the magic appearance of a dancing picture.
And, ever and anon, as the maiden cast the
soft glance of her “ sweet hazel eye” upon
the'brook, and saw her own image reflected
in the liquid mirror, she would smile, con
scious that she was the most beauteous ob
ject among all the charming creations theie
displayed. But the smile would quickly flit
away, and a look of sadness w ould succeed
it. Why was this so ? She was surpassing-,
ly beautiful; she was more than admired;
her gifts were queen-like, and hundreds
sighed in vain for the same good fortune.
Still the maiden was not happy. Even now
she played truant from the walks of elegance
and luxury, to seek contentment and tran
quility amid the wild freshness of nature.
Here no lovers would pursue to offer at her
shrine the mere fashionable incense of flatte
ry.
Such is human nature! Those who pos
sess, are not unfrequently discontented in
their satiety ; and those who have not, sigh
for better fortunes. Were the gifts of men
meted to them in proportion to their giatitmle
and their deserts, how few would be their
blessings! If man’s felicity depended solely
upon his own power and judgment, howdanv
would be his fate !
ATHENS, GEORGIA, SATURDAY, APRIL 21, 1549.
There sat that favored maiden, brooding in
j discontent over the golden destinies of her
life. Two forms approached her; they were
those of Memory and Hope.
“ Maiden,” said they, “we come to dispel
thy pensive mood ; but, as we toil in oppo
site directions, choose thou one of us for thy
! companion.”
Hope then smiled, and showed to her a
bright and glowing picture of the future.
Upon it was portrayed, in varied hues, a
long array of coming years, eaMi displaying 1
scenes of pleasure and of joy; but a form
: would intervene, and dim the brightest ima
ges; yet Hope still smiled, and waited for an
answer.
“What is that,” inquired the maiden,
“which obscures thy beauties?”
“Uncertainty,” replied Hope.
“Then let it depart,” exclaimed the impe
rious fair one, “and give me certainty in its 1
stead.”
“For that thou must strive, thyself.”
“Thou may*st.go, Hope,” cried the maid
en; “thou art, indeed, deceitful.”
Memory now came forward, and unfolded
her map of the past. Here and there, were
marked upon it the scenes of many a pleasant
hour. Here, some wished-for object was ob
tained — there, some friend was met with;
here , was a day of school-girl glee and frolic —
there, the social charm of some sweet winter
eve ; here, was somebrilliant festal meeting —
there, was achieved sorrie.iriumph of her beau- |
ty; here, some dreadful mishap was eliminat
ed — there, some pleasant marvel was first
discovered.
The maiden archly shook her lovely head,
smiled twice as archly, and said :
“This is all delightful, but I see upon the
secret map some dark spots.”
“Upon those we can cast the veil of timed’
whispered Memory, “and merely rove where
all is sweet and pleasant.”
The maiden was charmed ; her temper was
like an April morn—sometimes a passing
cloud, and then a brilliant sunshine: now 1
was the sun-shine, and she broke forth into
song:
“Bright, gladsome learns, ave darting free,
My heart is lull of glee ;
Sweet, joyous thoughts, remain with me,
And let me merry be.
i
Now, brightly shines the morning’s sun,
And clouilless is the day ;
Brook, breeze, and bird, in music one,
Raise, now, their coral lay.
So’t zephyr fans, coquettishly,
The roses’ tinted bloom ;
And violets wait, most lavishly,
Their sweetness in perfume.
So, now I'll smile and sprightly sing,
With spirits blithe and gav ;
And cave away I’ll lightly fling,
In honor of this day.
Oh ! radiant is the skyey blue,
Cheerilv smiles the morn ;
And I will sport ’till evening’s dew
Be-diamonds mead and lawn.”
The maiden was happy, now, and cried.
“Sweet Memory, thou art mine.” And, as
lightly as a young gazelle, she tripped a'ong
the enameled hank, and, still singing, gath
ered flowers —until, when heated by the sun’s
bright beams, she bore her gem-like spoils
beneath the tree, and formed a glorious many
colored couch; and there, lulled by t|ie cool
gurgling water, and by the clear silvery notes
of carolling birds, she fondly dreamed of by
gone times. Thus Memory triumphed.
When pleasure beckons, timeseenls to lin
ger; when evils are to come, time seems to
fly. Still, it lingers not —it hastens noi;
for all, its pace is ever equal: but, when it is
past, it then really is as short as the orange
colored twilight of a summer’s eve.
So our maiden found it ; and, as shoit a*
the past seemed to her, so must her history
now be. Her youth had flown, and with it
her beauty; her flatterers had forsaken her,
and her fortunes had been swepj away. She
now had real cause of sorrow', and that sor
row would, at times, extort tears. Two forms
approached her : they were those of Memory
and Hope
“ Lady,” said they, “we come to comfort
thee, but w r e labor even further apart than we
didin former days; so choose thou one of
us.”
Hope now held forth a picture which dif
fered from the former. The golden hues
were gone, but milder, softer tints, adorned
the vista of approaching years: the scenes,
placid and serene, might w’ell cheer the even
ing hours of life; but still a form would
rudely interpose, and tarnish each ray-like
charm.
“Ah!” sighed the lady, “ who can depend
on tlice ? Oh, Hope! ever smiling, yet ever
fallacious—uncertain and full of uncertain
ties—l cannot trust to ihce !”
Memory again spread before her gaze the
map of the past, and, though dark spots had
multiplied, the bright ones shone with inten
ser lustre, even as stars are brighter when
surrounded by dark clouds. Here and there ,
shone some sweet sunny spots. Here, was
some delightful instance of a father's love ;
there, was some sweet mark of a mother’s
care; here, hal a proud son of genius bowed,
and bestowed upon her some splendid gems
of thought; there, had some friend evinced a
fond attachment; here, were plans for merry
making; there, first she owned her maiden
love; here, was the marriage-day; and there,
were scenes of married life. These were all
delightful; and, as they passed before her
mind’s eye, she was beguiled into a smile,
and cried, “ Sweet Memory, thou art plea
sant!” Memory again had triumphed.
A sense of comparative indigence demands
a large share of philosophy to support it.
None feel the want of wealth so much as
those who have once enjoyed it. Disease,
under any combination of circumstances, is a
hard infliction ; but. when matched with age,
not unusual, they arc a sadly mated pair.
The hour of death will cause even the best
prepared to look with solicitude upon the
past, and with anxiety, though mingled with
trust, upon the future. To the unprepared,
it brings a thousand apprehensions.
These remarks apply to the subject of our
sketch. She had been wealthy, and, through
her own folly, had grown poor. Taught by
many a serious deprivation, she had discov
ered the folly of her former murmurings. In
age, she learned how great had been the
blessings of health, and, racked by the jiains
of disease, she looked with regret upon the
past. Stretched upon a bed of sickness, she
arrived at that trying hour, which seemed to
her the last which would connect her with
this world. Even in adversity, she had lived
for self and the things of time : now, howev
er, that she was about to enter into eternity,
what had she to sustain her? Where could
she find an anchor for the soul ? There that
fragile mortal lay—helpless, miserable, ha
rassed, and pain-stricken.
Two forms approached her; they were
those of Memory and Hope.
“Poor lady,” said they, “we again wait
on thee; choose thou one of us.”
Memory opened her map ; but how cheer
less was it now ! The brightest spots seemed
small and worthless; they were things of
time, and lime was nearly gone; it had little
power, now: the veil was rent asunder, and
each dark spot was there depicted with terri
ble and unerring energy of expression. In
fact, they seemed to grow beneath the gaze,
VOLUME 1. —HUMBER 49.
and to combine intoone united sheetof gloomy
and sombre hue. The dismal view was
keenly harrowing; cold beads of death-like
dew formed over the clammy forehead ; the
poor creature shut het eyes, and shrieked
out:
“Oh! Memory! I would that thou coiildst
leave me ! 1 ’
Hope kindly touched her, and sweetly
smiled upon her.
“I will show thee no picture, now, of
time,” said she, “ but, if thou wilt let me, I
can display a brighter and more consoling
one.”
“Hope! Hope!” murmured the sick wo
man, “thou art all I have. Oh! leave ine
i not.”
“I will not,” whispered Hope. “Strive
thou to follow me: I will lead thee to reli
gion’s portals ; enter in ; I will then brighten
into faith, and thou wilt then find promises
of sweeter joys than ever thou hast dreamed
: <#•”
Uncertainty may dim the things of time;
in eternity all is fixed and certain ; but even
in this world, Hope has led to many bright
realities, which, had she not been trusted,
would have been unwon and unenjoyed.—
I The sick woman discovered all these truths.
In the day and through the night, she com
muned with Hope. She was led where she
found all ways “were ways of pleasant
ness,” and all paths were “paths of peace.”
Soothed by wondrous promises, she found
tranquility; and this, alone, will sometimes
give strengthit did so, now, and, with
strength, came returning health. She arose
from that bed of sickness a renewed and bet
ter being. Hope had triumphed.
Memory and Hope stood together, and
Memory said to Hope:
“Even when my map of the past is marked
with good deeds, it is insufficient; without
good deeds, it is hateful. Thou may’st lead
to good deeds, and also brighten into faith;
thou .art the better of the two.”
Thus Hope’s triumph was complete.
It is wonderful how every thing around us
takes its complexion from the cast of ourown
minds and tempers. To the bitter and dis
contented, all things seem disgusting and un
satisfactory. To the benevolent and good,
the world, in spite of darkness, cruelty and
crime, seems full of pleasant things; under
all circumstances, there is something to soothe
and to cheer them. This is confined to no
sphere nor condition of life; it is a treasure
planted by a God of love in each human
heart, and can be used, if one will only mine
and work it. We meet with ingratitude and
faults, and we increase the evil by our own
unthoughtful conduct. Pursue any other
course, and how the world will change! In
lieu of a frown, we may win a smiley in
place of misfortune, success may yield her
crown; and often, instead of an adder, we
may find a dove. If we are brightened unth
in ourselves, all things will brighten around
| m ‘
So our aged matron found it. She now
lived for others, too; and, as she was pleas
ant in herself, things were pleasant to her.
Here, was a pleasure once unknown ; there,
an amusement once unthought of; here ,
. was a comfort long unused; there , was a
blessing just discovered. And thus she
passed her cheerful and contented days, loved
and cherished through a green old age; and,
when she sunk into the sleep of death, a
smile which lingered upon her time-worn
features showed bow calm and gentle had
been the change. She was loved, and mourn
ers dropped the tear of grief upon the grave’s
j fresh sod. But Faith \va3 there, and asked: