Song: The Page's Serenade of Mary, Queen of Scots [pp. 370]

Southern literary messenger; devoted to every department of literature and the fine arts. / Volume 16, Issue 6

37 A etraot Foec ae"Sn.[uE the dignity of a quasi god-father. I trust that she will live long, and be one day a cheerful and happy matron; and not die in her youth like the Florence of the song, for the poetry of being covered with lilies and daisies." The sentiment contained in the above, is full of the true dignity, and fellow-feeling of a Poet, and a good man. Like the waters of a spring, it is nothing less than the pouring out of purity and vigorous freshness. It would be useless to state that the " gem," in my family, will be " kept with care, and preserved with veneration." I will now copy the Poem, together with the note which accompanied the same, believing that it will elicit no ordinary degree of reading interest: "FLORENCE VANE. "I loved thee long and dearly, Florence Vane, Mly life's bright dream and early, Hath come again; I renew in my fond vision, My heart's dear painMy hope, and thy derision, Florence Vane. "The ruin lone, and hoary, The ruin old, Where thou did'st hark my story At even toldThat spot, the hues Elysian Of sky and plain, I treasure in my vision, Florence Vane: "Thou wast lovelier than the roses In their prime, Thy voice excelled the closes Of sweetest rhyme. Thy heart was as a river Without a mainWould I had loved. thee never, Florence Vane. " But fairest, coldest, wonder! Thy glorious clay Lieth the green sod under Alas the day! And it boots not to remember Thy disdainTo quicken Love's pale ember, Florence Vane. "The lilies of the valley, By young graves weep, The daisies love to dally Where maidens sleep. May their bloom, in beauty vying, Never wane, Where thine earthly part is lying, Florence Vane." Note to this MS. copy. "The idea contained in the two lines of the third stanza ' Thy heart was as a river Without a main' is not clearly expressed. The editor of the ' Knickerbocker' took the pains to discover this. My meaning, I suppose, was that Florence did not want the capacity to love, but directed her love to no object. Her passion went flowing like the currents of a lost river. Byron has a kindred idea expressed by the same figure. Perhaps his verses were in my mind when I wrote my own: 'She was the ocean to the river of his thoughts, Which terminated all.'- The Dream. " But no verse oughtto require to be interpreted, and if I were composing Florence Vane now, I would avoid the over-concentrated expression in the two lines, and make the idea clearer. As it is, I leave it, more than satisfied with the favor which has been shown to such a mere trifle, in many ways; but now most extraordinarily in the taking a name from it, for the child of strangers, born seven hundred miles away in the West! "When little FLOR.ENCE VANE HUNT comes after awhile, in inquiring how her name originated, to read this, she may care to know that ' Florence Vane' came into my mind, one spring day, as I walked in a flower-garden, and heard my young wife sing from a window of an old country house." Yours faithfully, J. HUNT, JR. Banks of the Ohio, March 19th, 1850. SONG. The Page's Serenade of Mary, Queen of Scots. The brightest stars now gem the sky, And moonbeams glitter on the lake, Save where Lochlevin's turrets high A dark and lengthen'd shadow make. Refreshing odours scent the air, Exhaling from some mossy dell, Where blossom flow'rets wild and fair, And grows the lovely Scotch Bluebell! Sweet Queen awake! Eolian music floats along In plaintive murmurs on the gale, As if the Zephyrs, in their song, Thy sad captivity bewail. The scene is beautiful to view! The murmur'd music sweet to hear! Then rise fair Queen!-one follower true, Thy faithful minstrel, lingers near. Fair Queen arise! Without thy presence, what to me Are Nature's charms, or Music's voice? With thine united they must be, To make this pensive heart rejoice. Ah then, sweet Sovereign! from thy tower Look out upon the skies and earth, And add to theirs, thy beauty's power, To call the m1instrel's raptures forth. Sweet Queen arise! J. M. C. 370 A Letter about 11 Florence Vane."-S-ong. [JulqF:,


37 A etraot Foec ae"Sn.[uE the dignity of a quasi god-father. I trust that she will live long, and be one day a cheerful and happy matron; and not die in her youth like the Florence of the song, for the poetry of being covered with lilies and daisies." The sentiment contained in the above, is full of the true dignity, and fellow-feeling of a Poet, and a good man. Like the waters of a spring, it is nothing less than the pouring out of purity and vigorous freshness. It would be useless to state that the " gem," in my family, will be " kept with care, and preserved with veneration." I will now copy the Poem, together with the note which accompanied the same, believing that it will elicit no ordinary degree of reading interest: "FLORENCE VANE. "I loved thee long and dearly, Florence Vane, Mly life's bright dream and early, Hath come again; I renew in my fond vision, My heart's dear painMy hope, and thy derision, Florence Vane. "The ruin lone, and hoary, The ruin old, Where thou did'st hark my story At even toldThat spot, the hues Elysian Of sky and plain, I treasure in my vision, Florence Vane: "Thou wast lovelier than the roses In their prime, Thy voice excelled the closes Of sweetest rhyme. Thy heart was as a river Without a mainWould I had loved. thee never, Florence Vane. " But fairest, coldest, wonder! Thy glorious clay Lieth the green sod under Alas the day! And it boots not to remember Thy disdainTo quicken Love's pale ember, Florence Vane. "The lilies of the valley, By young graves weep, The daisies love to dally Where maidens sleep. May their bloom, in beauty vying, Never wane, Where thine earthly part is lying, Florence Vane." Note to this MS. copy. "The idea contained in the two lines of the third stanza ' Thy heart was as a river Without a main' is not clearly expressed. The editor of the ' Knickerbocker' took the pains to discover this. My meaning, I suppose, was that Florence did not want the capacity to love, but directed her love to no object. Her passion went flowing like the currents of a lost river. Byron has a kindred idea expressed by the same figure. Perhaps his verses were in my mind when I wrote my own: 'She was the ocean to the river of his thoughts, Which terminated all.'- The Dream. " But no verse oughtto require to be interpreted, and if I were composing Florence Vane now, I would avoid the over-concentrated expression in the two lines, and make the idea clearer. As it is, I leave it, more than satisfied with the favor which has been shown to such a mere trifle, in many ways; but now most extraordinarily in the taking a name from it, for the child of strangers, born seven hundred miles away in the West! "When little FLOR.ENCE VANE HUNT comes after awhile, in inquiring how her name originated, to read this, she may care to know that ' Florence Vane' came into my mind, one spring day, as I walked in a flower-garden, and heard my young wife sing from a window of an old country house." Yours faithfully, J. HUNT, JR. Banks of the Ohio, March 19th, 1850. SONG. The Page's Serenade of Mary, Queen of Scots. The brightest stars now gem the sky, And moonbeams glitter on the lake, Save where Lochlevin's turrets high A dark and lengthen'd shadow make. Refreshing odours scent the air, Exhaling from some mossy dell, Where blossom flow'rets wild and fair, And grows the lovely Scotch Bluebell! Sweet Queen awake! Eolian music floats along In plaintive murmurs on the gale, As if the Zephyrs, in their song, Thy sad captivity bewail. The scene is beautiful to view! The murmur'd music sweet to hear! Then rise fair Queen!-one follower true, Thy faithful minstrel, lingers near. Fair Queen arise! Without thy presence, what to me Are Nature's charms, or Music's voice? With thine united they must be, To make this pensive heart rejoice. Ah then, sweet Sovereign! from thy tower Look out upon the skies and earth, And add to theirs, thy beauty's power, To call the m1instrel's raptures forth. Sweet Queen arise! J. M. C. 370 A Letter about 11 Florence Vane."-S-ong. [JulqF:,

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Song: The Page's Serenade of Mary, Queen of Scots [pp. 370]
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Cabell, Julia Mayo
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Southern literary messenger; devoted to every department of literature and the fine arts. / Volume 16, Issue 6

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