Graham's Magazine, Vol. XLI, No. 4, October 1852Various
General
Graham's Magazine, Vol. XLI, No. 4, October 1852
Various
Literature -- Periodicals; Literature, Modern -- 19th century -- Periodicals
“After the funeral was ower, and the mourners were all gone, I stood
beside her grave, thinking ower the days of my boyhood, when she and I
were happy weans, an’ used to pu’ the gowans together, on the heathery
hills o’ dear auld Scotland. An’ I tried in vain to understan’ the
mysterious providence o’ God, who had stricken her who seemed sae gude
and pure, an’ spared the like o’ me, who was mair deservin’ o’ his
wrath, when I heard a deep groan, an’ I saw Willie Robertson standing
near me beside the grave.
“‘Ye may as weel spare your grief, noo,’ said I, for I felt hard toward
him, an’ rejoice that the weary is at rest.’
“‘It was I murdered her,’ said he, ‘an’ the thought will haunt me to my
last day. Did she remember me on her death-bed?’
“‘Her thoughts were only ken’d by Him who reads the secrets of a’
hearts, Willie. Her end was peace, an’ her Saviour’s blessed name was
the last sound upon her lips. But if ever woman died fra’ a broken
heart, there she lies.’
“‘Oh, Jeanie!’ he cried, mine ain darling Jennie! my blessed lammie! I
was na’ worthy o’ yer love—my heart, too, is breaking. To bring ye back
aince mair, I wud lay me down an’ dee!’
“An’ he flung himsel’ upon the grave, and embraced the fresh clods, and
greeted like a child.
“When he grew more calm, we had a long conversation about the past, and
truly I believe that the man was not in his right senses when he married
yon wife; at ony rate, he is not lang for this world; he has fretted the
flesh aff his banes, an’ before many months are ower, his heid will lie
as low as puir Jeanie Burns’s.”
* * * * *
=THE LAST HOUR OF SAPPHO.=
=BY E. ANNA LEWIS.=
THE PROMONTORY OF LEUCADIA.
This is the spot—’tis here tradition says,
That hopeless love from this high towering rook
Leaped headlong to oblivion, or to death.
Oh, ’tis a giddy height! my dizzy head
Swims at the precipice!—’tis death to fall.
Southey.
My life is in its last hour . . . .
——————farewell, ye opening heavens!
Look not upon me thus reproachfully—
Ye were not meant for me—earth! take these atoms!
_Manfred._
I.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account