University of Virginia Library

LINES SUGGESTED BY A PORTRAIT.

Beautiful being! on whose brow the sun
Seems to have shower'd its kisses, whose soft eyes
Gleam thro' their silken lashes, like the first
Spring violet thro' its curtain of young leaves;
Whose cheek is Parian marble, pure and pale,
Yet with the crimson shadow of the rose,
Flushing its native whiteness—on whose lip,
A cherub seems to sit, with “wreathed smiles,”
Fresh with the fragrance of their native heaven,
I gaze on thee and marvel. Can it be
That thou art born to toil, to weep, to die,
To muse o'er fallen hopes, to feel the blight
Of crush'd affection, and the bitter pang
Of change in those belov'd; to feel the heart
Grow dull beneath the leaden touch of time,
And all the bright imaginings of youth,
Melt like the snow-flake in the sun away.
Yes! such may be thy destiny, for such
Is but the bitterness each lip must taste
That drains the cup of life. Disease may bow
That flower-like form, and grief, with iron hand,
May write its strange defeatures on thy brow,
And mar its beauty, and more sad than all,
Sin may find entrance into that fair shrine,
And rear its altar there;—unholy hopes,
And warring passions, and dark thoughts may meet
And wrestle in that young and beating heart,
Till peace become an exile. Oh, while yet
The unsullied freshness of thine early youth
Sheds its bright dew upon thee, while the glow
Of the soul's beauty beams upon thy face,—
Oh! raise it unto heaven! Implore His aid,
To shield thee in the conflict, and to save,
When they who plot man's downfall, and exult
O'er the lost spirit, weave their subtle spells
Around thee, and beset thy path with snares.