CONTENTS. NO. II.-VOL. X.-FEBRUARY, 1844. EDITOR'S TABLE. lar attention to this.... 6. Notes on our Army-No. I. Addressed to the Hon. Thomas H. Benton.. 7. The Enchanted Gifts, by Mrs. Jane L. Swift... 8. Letters from Gibralter. French.... 9. Notes on Cuba.. 10. Shelley. Extract from a Lecture on the "Genius 11. The Influence of the Fine Arts on the Moral Sen sibilities, by Rev. J. N. Danforth, Alexandria.....109 12. A Passage in the Life of Edward Moreland. A Tale of Washington City.... ORIGINAL POETRY. 13. The Song of the Scald, Biorne. By Henry B. Hirst.. 114 72 26. College Convention of Virginia.. 30. Notices of New Works..... See several important Notices on the Cover. PAYMENTS TO THE SOUTHERN LITERARY MESSENGER. Allen, Mrs. Louisa G....Richmond, Va...... .vol 10 vol 10 .vol 9 .vol 9 Kilgour, John M... -vol 8-9 10 vol 10 vol 9 Barnett, Isaac N.....Columbia, Arkansas.. .121 ...121 .122 122 123 123-128 _vol 9 .vol 9 vol 10 .vol g vol 10 ..vol 9 .vol 9 ..vol 9 ..vol 9 Jacobson, J. 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For nightly converse among hellish ghosts: We, from the memory of brighter days, Orester. We tread the path of Death, and at each step Must gather strength for new heroic effort. My soul is more composed. When to Apollo I prayed, to free me from the avenging fiends That ever dogged my steps, he seemed to promise, That, in the temple of his much loved sister, Who rules o'er Tauris, I should find assistance So full of hope, is sure of its fulfilment, For, with my life, my sufferings soon will end. Thy light, to one whose heart the hand of God The sons of Atreus-if, like my brave father, Like all my ancestors, it be my doom To die a bloody death, so let it be." Better to bleed before the altar here Than in a corner, by the assassin hand Of a near kinsman. Fiends of Tartarus, Who dog my steps, while yet I walk the earth, NO. 2. Orestes. O had I caught his hem and followed him. Pylades. Much cause have I to thank the hand that saved thee; For what were I without thee, since with thee, And for thy sake alone, from infancy, I've wished to live. Orestes. Remind me not, I pray thee, Of those bright days, when, in thy father's house, I found a refuge, where his prudent care Tenderly nursed the bruised and blighted blossom, While thou, forever gay and light of heart, Sporting around me like a butterfly O'er a dark flower hovering, to my soul And, like the sleuth-hound, snuff the blood that marks them, By youthful sympathy, would lose myself Let me alone! soon I go down to you. The light of day no more shall be polluted By sight of you or me; nor earth's green carpet Pylades. Not yet, like thee, Orestes, am I ready la likeness to my father, tho' I spoke not, My presence to her paramour and her Was a severe rebuke. Alas! How often VOL. X-9 In dreams enthusiastic. Pylades, It was then My life began then when I first loved thee. Orestes. More truly say that then thy griefs began. Horrible fate! That I, thus plague-infected And driven from society, must bear Anguish and death to others in my bosom. Go where I will, tho' all before was health, The blooming cheek grows pale at my approach And wears the marks of death, certain tho' slow. Pylades. Were poison in thy breath, Orestes, I Should be the first to perish; but thou seest me Still full of cheerful confidence and courage; And Love and Confidence are wings that bear To great achievements. Orestes. Great achievements! Yes, The time has been when we to such looked forward, When we on mount and vale pursued our prey, And hoped to see the day, when rivalling The courage and the prowess of our fathers, We too, with club and sword, might hunt the monster, Or track the robber to his cave, and then When, leaning on each other, we would sit At evening, looking out o'er the broad sea, The rippling wave breaking against our feet, And all the world spread out before our eyes: Then would we grasp the sword, and deeds of glory Through the dark future glittered like the stars Whose countless host spangled the night's black brow. Pylades. The work the soul proposes to herself Is infinite, still burning to achieve Deeds of such splendor, as at once may rival The glories which are still the poet's theme, Echoed through distant lands and distant ages. Orestes. Let him be thankful, who is made a blessing Me they have made their butcher, and the blood Pylades. The Gods do not avenge upon the Son Orestes. Have blessings brought us hither? From that which is and has been. Who can say Orestes. How happily dost thou accommodate If 'tis my destiny Pylades.. Be not impatient. You increase the evil, And on yourself the Furies' office take. I call on thee, and we advance together Nay, mock not. That, in my view, bold deeds are not disgraced Orestes. I deem him brave, who goes straight to his aim. Of Amazons, from dire misfortune flying.. Orestes. It seems her light sway now has lost its power. The criminal, who bears upon his brow A curse as broad as night, no sooner comes Pylades. Well for us 'tis a Woman: for a Man- Of that he once detested. Constant Woman SCENE 2. Pylades. Iphigenia. Iphigenia. What and whence art thou, stranger? To my eye Thy aspect speaks thee rather Greek than Scythian. [She takes off his chains.] I give thee dangerous freedom. May the Gods Pylades. Sweet voice! O! welcome sound! My mother tongue Spoke in a foreign land, at once recalling My home's blue mountains to my captive eye. Pylades. The task is easy To tell the dire evil that pursues us. Oh! that thou couldst to us,-Oh! heavenly maid, The light of hope as easily impart. We come from Crete. Adrastus is our father." And he, the oldest hope of our house Of Childhood (the cement of brother's love) Between these brothers for the crown contending. The Furies now with fiery rage pursue. Iphigenia. Is Troy then fallen? Stranger tell me truly. Accelerate the aid a God has promised. Have pity on my brother. One kind word Shaken by Memory, or Joy, or Pain, By feverish insanity, which gives His beauteous mind a victim to the Furies. Iphigenia. Severe thy fate. But for a while forget it, Till you have told me what I long to learn. Pylades. The lofty City, which, for ten long years Withstood the hosts of Greece, now lies in ruins, Fallen to rise no more. But there the graves Of many of our heroes keep alive The sad remembrance of that hostile shore. There lies Achilles, with his handsome friend. Iphigenia. Ye godlike images!-Are ye but dust? Pylades. And Palamedes-Telamonian Ajax, These too their native country saw no more. Iphigenia. Unhappy Man! I loose thy bonds, a sign Gives liberty, which, like the flickering ray Iphigenia. He speaks not of my father: names him not I can not, dare not, to myself admit Among the fallen. Still he lives to me, And I may hope to see him. O, my Heart! Pylades. But happier far the thousands that there met A bitter-sweet death from a hostile hand Than they for whom the offended Gods prepared I see that thou dost reverence the race Of this great King, and that thy breast in vain Iphigenia. How was it done? Pylades. O! the dreadful deed! The day of his arrival, Himself therefrom, the traitorous Ægystheus But say What recompense rewarded the accomplice. That you are lost. Can I with murderous hand Shall touch your heads. But if I should decline The office which the angry King demands, Does prudence Injoin concealment of thy name and race, Stood Agamemnon, lordly above all. Iphigenia. Poor Mycena! Wo to thee! And thus the wild hands of the race of Tantalus Pulades. That and a cherished sense of old resentment. Have scattered curse on curse; and like the weed, Iphigenia. How had the King offended? By a deed Pylades. Shaking its withered head, have strewed around |