To Mary [pp. 636]

SOUTHERN LITERARY MESSENGER.
Yes, uninterpreted and drear,
Toil onward with benighted mind,
Still kneel at prayers thou canst not hear,
And grope for truth thou may'st not find.
No scroll of friendship or of love,
Must breathe its language o'er thy heart,
Nor that Blest Book which guides above,
Its message to thy soul impart.
But Thou who didst on Calvary die,
Flows not thy mercy wide and free?
Thou, who didst rend of death the tie,
Is Nature's seal too strong for thee?
And Thou, oh Spirit pure, whose rest
Is with the lowly, contrite train,
Illume the temple of her breast,
And cleanse of latent ill the stain.
That she whose pilgrimage below
Was night that never hoped a morn,
That undeclining day may know
Which of eternity is born.
The great transition who can tell?
When from the ear its seal shall part
Where countless lyres seraphic swell,
And holy transport thrills the heart.
When the chain'd tongue, which ne'er might pour
The broken melodies of time,
Shall to the highest numbers soar,
Of everlasting praise sublime,
When those blind orbs which ne'er might trace
The features of their kindred clay,
Shall scan of Deity the face,
And glow with rapture's deathless ray.
L. H. S.
For the Southern Literary Messenger.
AN ELEGY
Sacred to the memory of the infant children of S. M. and C. W.
S. of Campbell county, Va. By Frederic Speece.
0, they were rose-buds, fresh and bright,
Fair flow'rets breathing of delight;
Young cherubs from a happier sphere,
Too gently sweet to linger here.
The rose-buds withered ere their bloom,
The flow'rets strewed an early tomb,
The gentle cherubs tasted pain,
Then sought their native skies again.
Infants are bright immortal things
Though robed in feeble, dying clay:
Death but unfolds their silken wings,
And speeds their joyful flight away;
Beyond these cold, sublunar skies,
They seek a home among the blest;
On strong unwearied pinions rise,
Cleave the blue vault and are at rest.
What though no marble may attest
Where slumber lone their cold remains,
Their little cares are hushed to rest,
And terminated all their pains.
Nor Fame may deign a feeble blast,
To tell the world that they have been;
Nor snatch the record of the past
From the dark grave that locks it in.
Barren the theme-the legend trite
Of joys or griefs it could revealThe interchange of shade and light
That all have felt and all must feel.
Though grief has lost its keener edge,
Remembrance lingers where they lie,
To muse on ev'ry precious pledge
The loved ones left beneath the sky.
And ere oblivion's ebon wing
Sweep ev'ry vestige from the spot,
Affection shall its off'rings bring,
Nor leave them to be quite forgot.
Each lovely flow'r and drooping bell Bright daughters of the op'ning year,Those beauteous things they loved so well
Shall weep their annual tribute here.
Through dreary Winter's storm and cold,
These sleep from all his terrors free
Again their blooming sweets unfold,
Emblem of all that they shall be.
For the Southern Literary Messenger.
SONNET.
BY ALEX. LACEY BEARD.
Sunset is past,-and now while all is still,
And softly o'er the plain the moonbeams fall,
I'll hold communion with myself and call
From mem'ry's caverns, feelings deep, that fill
My soul with gladness. * * * Now I feel the thrill
Of past delights;-I stand in that old hall,
My friends surround me,-yes, I see them all: My heart grows faint, my eyes with tear-drops fill.
And now they vanish, from my sight they go.
Farewell ye loved ones, we shall meet again
As oft we've met, at the dim twilight's wane;In dreams and visions which shall brightly show
Your sunny faces, and shall bring the glow
Of by-gone joys, back to my soul again.
For the Southern Literary Messenger.
TO MARY.
Mary, amid the cares-the woes
Crowding around my earthly path,
(Sad path, alas! where grows
Not ev'n one lonely rose,)
My soul at least a solace hath
In dreams of thee, and therein knows
An Eden of sweet repose.
And thus thy memory is to me
Like some enchanted, far-off isle,
In some tumultuous seaSome lake beset as lake can be
With storms-but where, meanwhile,
Serenest skies continually
Just o'er that one bright island smilc.
E. A. P.
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