On this page
-
Text (1)
-
Untitled Article
Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software. The text has not been manually corrected and should not be relied on to be an accurate representation of the item.
-
-
Transcript
-
Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software. The text has not been manually corrected and should not be relied on to be an accurate representation of the item.
Additionally, when viewing full transcripts, extracted text may not be in the same order as the original document.
Untitled Article
the heavens in their glory , and the earth beneath them rejoicing in their beams , and all the shapes of life that walked thereon , doing and suffering—triumphing in good or evil , or sitting by the way-sides of existence wrapped in the blackness and the bitterness of despair . To all things , love , in the forms of congratulatory joy , or pity , or lament , gushed forth ; and her spirit , as it were , kindled and converted wholly into this celestial element , looked back upon the delightful imagery and living objects of early life , and clung to them with a tearful regret ; or clasped its arms , at once weeping and exulting , round the beloved things of the present ; or stretched itself forward into tfie heaven of futurity as the place where all that the soul of gentle yet boundless affection yearned after shall reassemble , and for ever ! In her own
words—* There was a time—sweet time of youthful folly ! Fantastic woes I courted , feigned distress , Wooing the veiled phantom Melancholy With passion , born , like love , " in idlenesse . "
Watching the flitting clouds , the fading * flowers , The flying rack athwart the waving grass—And murmuring oft " Alack 1 this world of ours ! Such are its joys—so swiftly doth it pass I "
And then mine idle tear ( ah ! silly maiden !) Bedropt the liquid grass like summer rain , And sighs , as from a bosom sorrow-laden , Heaved the light heart , that knew no real pain ! And then I loved to haunt lone burial places , To pace the church-yard earth with noiseless tread , To pore in new-made graves for ghastly traces—Brown crumbling bones of the forgotten dead .
To think of passing- ^ bells , of death and dying—Twere good , methought , in early youth to die , So loved ! lamented ! in such sweet sleep lying ; The white shroud all with flowers and rosemary Stuck o ' er by loving hands .
And I have lived to look on " death and dying , " To count the sinking pulse , the shortening breath—To watch the last faint life-streak flying—flying "To Btoop—to start ! to be alone with death !
And now—and now—pale pining Melancholy No longer veiled for me your haggard brow , In pensive sweetness , such as youthful folly Fondly conceited , I abjure ye now !
Untitled Article
340 The Writing * and Genius of Caroline Bowles .
-
-
Citation
-
Monthly Repository (1806-1838) and Unitarian Chronicle (1832-1833), May 2, 1834, page 340, in the Nineteenth-Century Serials Edition (2008; 2018) ncse.ac.uk/periodicals/mruc/issues/vm2-ncseproduct2633/page/28/
-