Chapter L: H. S

_Hartford, Conn._

[Footnote 1: The Indian name for William Penn.]

For the Southern Literary Messenger.

HOPES AND SORROWS.

The fitful beam
Of the rippled fountain,
The purple gleam
Of the eve-lit mountain,
The vanishing glance
Of the meteors motion,
The lights that dance
On the darkened ocean,
Are the faithful types of the _hopes_ that won us,
While the dew of our youth still sparkled upon us.

The arid sands
Of the sun-dried river,
The rock that stands
Where lightnings quiver,
The pitiless rush
Of the earthquake's ruin,
The startling hush
Of the sea-storm brewing,
Are as truly types of the _sorrows_ that found us,
When the hopes that we nursed had all fled from around us.

For the Southern Literary Messenger.

THE WANDERER.

BY ALEX. LACEY BEARD, M.D.

Along the devious paths of life,
A wild and wayward wand'rer, I,
Have steered my bark mid passion's strife,
And where destruction's pitfalls lie.

When on a dark and rock-bound shore,
My bark was wildly tempest tost,
And o'er the breakers' sullen roar,
Arose the fearful cry--_all's lost!_

I shrunk not from the raging blast,
But with a bold and reckless hand
I steered her on, till she had past
The stormy sea and rocky strand.

A fierce enthusiast, I have dared
To risk my all, upon one cast,--
Have seen the danger,--nor have feared,
What others looked upon aghast.

Disease has laid her iron hand,
With no weak grasp, my frame upon,
But all her power could not withstand
The spirit which has borne me on.

A demon some have called me--yet,
Admit that with my spirit blends,
A feeling strangely to forget
All thought of self, in aid of friends.

A madman some have deemed me--and,
In sooth, dark shadows often run
Across my mind, as o'er the land,
When darkest clouds obscure the sun.

I often wish to die--and flee
Far, far away from earth, that I
May search the dim unknown, and see
What wonders in its bosom lie.

'Tis not because life has no charm,--
I love the gay and laughing stream;
I love the glowing sunshine warm;
I love Old Luna's silvery beam.

I love to gaze on maiden's eye,
Though it has often been my bane;
I love on courser swift to fly,
Like arrow o'er the flowery plain.

Yet still, my wayward soul will oft,
Cherish the wish to pass that bound,
Which spans this life, and seek aloft
For bliss which here is never found.

But now my lyre begins to fail
I'll cease my lone and wand'ring song.
Fearful lest with my idle wail,
I linger o'er the chords too long.

For the Southern Literary Messenger.

TRUE RICHES AND GLORY.

For fortune's prize let others pant,
And count the "yellow slave,"
No joys can gathered jewels grant,
No sickening sorrows save--
But bustling and jostling
To swell the treasured heap,
It cloys us, annoys us,
And leaves the _heart_ to weep.

Let others climb the dizzy height
Where glory shines afar,
Alas! renown is but the light
That decks the falling star.
Still driving and striving
To reach the radiant prize,
We grasp it and clasp it,
And in our touch it dies.

But, oh! let mine the treasure be
That social joys impart,
And mine the glory, sympathy
Beams on the feeling heart--
Still soothing and smoothing
The grief of friends distrest,
And lending and spending,
That others may be blest.

For the Southern Literary Messenger.

THE DEATH OF THE MOTHERLESS.

"As the little one turned for the last time, his tenderly beaming eyes on all around, they seemed to say 'Father!--she calls,--I go,--farewell,--farewell.'"

"Who calleth thee, my darling boy?
What voice is in thine ear?"
He answer'd not, but murmur'd on
In words that none might hear;
And still prolong'd the whispering tone,
As if in fond reply
To some dear object of delight
That fix'd his dying eye.

And then, with that confiding smile
First by his Mother taught,
When freely on her breast he laid
His troubled infant thought,
And meekly as a placid flower
O'er which the dew-drops weep,
He bow'd him on his painful bed,
And slept the unbroken sleep.

But if in yon immortal clime
Where flows no parting tear,
That root of earthly love may grow
Which struck so deeply here,
With what a tide of boundless bliss,
A thrill of rapture wild,
An angel mother in the skies,
Must greet her cherub child.