it, like terpillar, eats
test book, the rose.
It is a on practice lived tibility of early feeling, or up in tlessness of dissipated life, to laug all love stories, and to treat tales of romantic passion as mere ?s of s and poets. My observations o, er may be civated into mere smiles by ts of society, still t ?res lurking in t bosom, imes desolating in ts. Indeed, I am a true believer in ty, and go to tent of rines. S?--I believe in broken s, and ty of dying of disappointed love! I do not, a malady often fatal to my o I ?rmly believe t it o an early grave.
Man is ture of i and ambition. ure leads le and bustle of t t of ervals of ts. une for spa t, and dominion over a ions. t is is tion strives for empire--it is treasures. Sure; sraf?c of affe; and if s is a bankruptcy of t.
to a man, tment of love may occasion some bitter pangs; it enderness--it blasts some prospects of felicity; but ive being--e s in tion, or may pluo tide of pleasure; or, if tmeoo full of painful associations, aking, as it ;?y to ttermost parts of t rest."
But ively a ?xed, a secluded, aative life. Ss and feelings; and if turo ministers of sorroo be ress t ured, and sacked, and abandoned, a desolate.
eyes groomb, and none tell t bligs o its side, and cover and ceal t is preying on its vitals--so is it ture of o ion. te female is ale, s to s it co ce is at an end.
Ss all ts, qui tide of life in s t is broken--t refres of sleep is poisoned by melanc;dry sorroil est external injury. Look for er a little one, ely gloy, s doo "darkness and t; You old of some ry , t laid no one knoal malady o the spoiler.
Seree, ty of ts form, brigs foliage, but its . e ?nd it suddenly s fres. e see it drooping its branco til, ed and peris falls even in tillness of t; and as iful ruin, rive in vain to recollect t or t t could ten it h decay.
I ances of o e and self-, and disappearing gradually from t as if to edly fa I could trace tion, cold, debility, languor, melancil I reac symptom of disappointed love. But an instance of tely told to me; tances are ry ed.
Every one must recollect tragical story of young E----, triot; it oo touco be soon fotten. During troubles in Ireland, ried, ned, and executed, on a creason. e made a deep impression on public sympatelligent--so generous--so brave--so every t to like in a young man. urial, too, y and intrepid. tion reason against ry--t vindication of ic appeal to posterity, in tion, --all tered deeply into every generous bosom, and eveern policy t dictated ion.
But t o describe. In unes, ions of a beautiful and iing girl, ter of a late celebrated Iriser. Serested fervor of a and early love. self against ed in fortune, and disgrad danger darkened around ly for e could a must tell omb suddenly closed bet loved o at its t out in a cold and lonely lovely and loving ed.
But tful, so diso d could sootion--none of teanelt sorroo tears, sent like to revive t in ting hour of anguish.
to render uation more desolate, suad al roof. But could t so s of solation, for ties. t delicate and tions ion. So society, and tried by all kinds of occupation and amusement to dissipate ragical story of it rokes of calamity t scatrate to tal seat of it, never again to put forth bud or blossom.
Sed to frequent ts of pleasure, but in a sad revery, apparently unscious of t mocked at all ts of friends; t;
told me ory a masquerade.
tion of far-gone criking and painful to meet it in sud it re, lonely and joyless, dressed out in trappings of mirt ried in vain to c t into momentary fetfulness of sorroer strolling tter abstra, s eps of an orcra, and, looking about for some time air, t sy to t, to tle plaintive air. Se, voice; but on t ouc breatc se and silent, around ed every oo tears.
tory of one so true and tender could not but excite great i in a try remarkable for ent pletely of a brave of?cer, one so true to t but prove affeate to ttentions, for s ed in . ed not enderness, but eem. ed by ion of itute and depe situation, for sing on t lengt erably anothers.
ook o Sicily, a c t to be a not and dev melanc ered into ed a lengto tim of a broken .
It inguis, posed the following lines:
She land where her young hero sleeps,
But coldly surns from their gaze, and weeps,
Sive plains,
Atle t in rains,
of trel is breaking!
ry he died,
t to life wined him--
Nor soon sears of ry be dried,
O,
t,
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