Newspaper Page Text
St f’KRS I I I ION.
It appears i!i it Madame Stance ft* 11 a sacri *■' v'!! ‘ ' 'll11 in Sin* was taken suddenly ill at Mr. K* dt s. in tie-presence fa meiUcaJjgen t!*man. uli i .t-lvi--d ln-r to lie bled. The next ,:|t- Dr I liHjji'T wished to hired her, but she r- i I'- d. In •• iuse it 111,1. Friday—and in const*• tjttriieo id 1 lie ih lay l ist her hie. ** No poc. er1,'' s '’r k* !U. •* eolild prevail upon Mr. Sheri 1111 n t i eomm-'iice iiilv business, or set out upon a - nirnev. on Friday . nor would la- ailoiv. i!' he eould ) i ■ i - - .' 1 avoid it, a pa re to In- produced <-u a Friday ni.clit.” w *» ni-a-r*- n I*s- ««— 1—*»-» jr-, -t-rv »!■ ■ nil n i i mi—i i m r'.. -J*^J V. r.’ioM thi: s\n »iu\v fvkmn . i-hst. <M>* not tin- l.ir t i ut. ,.i:i nil hound up In her ,iV C- \\ ■ <! Its-, she 1 < > do l<‘ ’ s bleak w-.a! I t 1 It H: tV l;c Well I nr m in, m ! r - t • ; < cm: sr to move l •unimltfi ’ l h\ -a r :-oiit:s ' lint -u-r ut re born ! nr !nVf :tt l . . r : ’’ In In-lid I ’t,> . >, rs to add T.> ail ma;;\ com. i t’, ;mb *•, •- to him '1*1 n t’J •'!; • mines*, rs of purest jov, S o I nh* n s! i 111v* <inil • >\ 1 rtivs of life, I > v.r tie. rnidi paths ofdut\, a.u! loll oft f i'oni perl, I s.u, e—when ft llovv man W old lervi .'ns ');n'v to wreck, on the rude rocks O! nleak d - ~; r : Tin. n s;;uni not < ur rt proof; 4 or 11 may saw* \ on mam an hour of sorrow And de ;> remorse, which love would guard \ ou from. Iii sickness, ours the task to smooth the pillow I ■ . the feverish head—to mix the balsam tor The languid frame—to heal, to soothe, to cherish— And by all the offices of faithful love, IJeguile the tedious hours of half their horror I A\ hen strong health nerves the hand—prosperity Keeps the gay spirits in an even flow, And man may proudly walk alone ; and scorn The seeming feeble bond affection twines Around the human heart ! Hut let misfortune Itrcak like a tempest o’er him—w hen its lightnings Scathe the proud oak—and all its fluttering leaves, I ike summer friends, desert it—then it leans To the trail ivy, that unheeded clung \ round it in the hour of strength and glorv ! \nd that ivy, wreathes its withered bark \\ ith verdure, shields its bruised and hr 'ken limbs From the fierce fervor of the n.id-dav sun, \ud yet impedes not in their balmv course f he healing dews of heaven! Man may he faithless, Hut woman still must love : and si ill must mourn O’er the heart estranged, until she fir. 1 Her calm abode of rest—in the cold c arth ; Hut not so cold as him who w on lu r love And threw’ the flower awsv, to wither like the roses of the spiing, that still retain J beir balmy odour, when their bloom is ■ a-t. Itv>S A. VENETIAN’ SONG. We ramc close under a tlrt arv-ionking wing ,.f the building of t he I .a/. .r< tto—so close) that «c dost n heard a y g silvt rv-t ntd voice fre T10,1 ■' i epeuting 1 <-/.<.'•• j. r in,—vemte per me, ' iJo .ctnl by,t:!i sound, we perceived a o.l ■ face pr - led against the bars of a sashless vo; V, ill an .'Vatci I pan of tile building—a hand, that l.i nsing ! :c i.i !!,;• sunshine, had forced f thr . . grating?, and acci nipanied hi' its impatient a. •;! mthe ott-repeated question of / / :ritr i"r : O'."-[I.AUV “ .'.re yc coming t me—are _t e coming for me Implor’d a voice plaintive ai’d long ; *• Are e coming for me—are ye coming for me j” 'Vere the tvoio.s m a cruc’d inatden’s sontr, Who was waving her Inti from a lattice on high, \nd had press’.! her pale check through the rail, Where she earnestly beckon’d mi ns to draw nigh, Hut chang’d not the words cf her w fh ’ 1 was a fair tender maiden, w hose lover had died On the morn of the bridal fix’d day ; And often she wonder’d they call’d not the bride— Or why did the bridegroom dela\. Oh! ’twas piteous to see, when they told her his fate, She would not believe he was (h ad— I>ut incessant she moan’d, like a dove for its mate, And wept that he came not towed. 1 o a Convent of Venice they bore her away, W here wild in her madness she raves ; lo Hu* stranger who passes in va n she will pray, I ill her sad plaint is lost on the waves. At that dark iron grate she unwearied appears, And watches the barks leave the shore; Wim'e she franticly moans the same cry w hen she hears T ae splash of a gondolier’s oar ! FROM THE WINCHESTER REPUBLICAN. BOSTOU BAP.D. The friends ol tliis. hapless son of song—and "<• know lie has .sincere ones among our read ers—ill peruse wilh pleasure the line> from his pen which we lliis week publish. They are communicated by a friend, at whose request they were e> ritten, and w ill he admired by every lover of chaste and tender poetry. Those who know the author's history, cannot read his productions without painful as well as plea surable emotions. From infancy lie has been , the sport of sorrow and misfortune. By the most unnatural assimilation of causes, he has met enemies, where the. impulses of nature prompted him to seek for friends. Throw n ear ly and unprotected upon the world, he has struggled hard and long with adiersity, until his energies arc exhausted—his health impaired —his mind lacerated in providing means of pre sent subsistence—and the terrors of a consump tion destroying all his prospects of future pro mise as last as they are, created. He some time since issued proposals for the publication of his life and poems, in tie- hope that this appeal to the sympathy of the American public would not he disregarded. But we fear lie w ill he compel led to abandon that hope. The world has be come sordid and calculating. The effusions of a native hard may be read and admired in a newspaper, because they cost nothing ; but poet r\. to sell, must bear a royal stamp, and be pa nctrj rized bv royal reviewers. We hope, how ever, for the honor of oui literary taste, and the sympathies of a generous nation, that the poems of t'.iilni may he prepared for the press, and meet with such a sale, as w ill place the amiable author beyond the reach of want, and cheer his prospects with the sunshine of future tranquil lily.—[ Kililnr. Mr. Davis:—The annexed harmonious and impressive stanzas—an effusion of one of the sweetest and most dninely inspired sons of go niiis—are transmitted to you with a hope that you will permit them to breathe their tender melody in a nook of your interesting paper;— and thus confer a gratification upon A FRIEND OF NATIVE TAl.ENT. January 16, ls-26. WASHINGTON’S DIRGE. II rittea at the request of a friend, and adapted to the a ir of the dinsi of Sir John . Moore. Why moans the white surge on Potomac’s proud tide > \t hv droop the green willows that grow by its side ? Why chant Nature’s minstrels their numbers so slow } Imparting their songs in the whispers of wo ' All, why “ sighs the tail grass ” o’er Vernon’s green breast ? Why fades the rirli splendor on Victory’s crest ‘ Why is heard the deep sigli of the summer’s bright close ? While the lily’s still blooming, and blushing the rose ? \?y country ! thy saviour—thy WASHINGTON brave— j I ,ies cold in the earth, ’midst the gloom of the grave; I he arrow of death to his bosom hath sped ;_ lie mingles with dust—with the du»t of the dead 1 I he bright plume of valor, that blazon’d his worth, 1 a s prone upon \ ernoe, and hallow s its earth ; j Hut the boon of tin bh >t to Ins sjririt is given— | llie teals of a world, and the ghuv of Heaven.* - HUSTON HAUD. Motto on medals struck at flic time of his cease: /;, iu o-tunj—the. world In tciirs." FltOM Til K N. V. COMMERCIAL ADVERTISER ^ WKLUASVX RAY. The fi llowing lines not only breathe a spin' ni pious resignation under an accumulation oi heavy alflielions, but of genuine poetry, also. Our readers have before been made acquainted " ith the writer, and with his claims upon the liberality of the public, lie is yet in the eitv. with his family, and is himself entirely helpless, by the infirmities brought upon him in the m r vice of the country, and the dungeons of Tripoli, and by a subsequent parah. tic affection. Mis only hope ol obtaining pecuniary relief, is from the publication of bis poems Hut be lias not the means. A few individuals have subscribed for near 150 copies; but this is not enou2.i1 to warrant, an edition. Will not the booksellers unite and take titty copies each? Major llav lias petitioned to (. 0112'ress tor a pension. And it is a ease, in our bumble opinion, in which there should be no hesitation.—[Editor. KOIt THF. COMMERCIAL ADVERTISE!!. lUIKMJSHIP. Ill- WILLIAM HAT, KSQ.. “ J( il/iouf a frientl ilu: world is lift a wilderness ’* Without a friend—without a friend, The world is but a wilderness ; Though sun arise, and rains dt sccnd, Vet all is dark and comfortless : How sad, without one gleam of hope, Through this lone wilderness to grope Ibids may expand, and flowers awhile May blossom only to deem ; The trees mav bow their heads and smile Kiss’d by the breezes of the day 1 Hut go to-morrow—look—and see— Nought but the weeping willow tree. Those beasts of prey—the passions dire, Infest the forest of the mind, Not purified by culture’s fire— Enlighten'd by it or refin’d ; Blit let in Friendship’s vivid rav, i And all is Eden—all is day. The wildnerness begins to bloom Afresh—and fruits begin to grow— Philosophy dispels the gloom That settles on our path below, And blest Religion points sbove, Where all is friendship—peace—and love. On him who is the friend of all, My soul in safety shall depend, Though earth may sink, and skies rrav fall He is my everlasting friend ; The favor of whose friendship is Tnfading and eternal bliss.