Graham's Magazine, Vol. XXXIV, No. 4, April 1849Various
General
Graham's Magazine, Vol. XXXIV, No. 4, April 1849
Various
Literature -- Periodicals; Literature, Modern -- 19th century -- Periodicals
Walter Malcolm survived a week after the scene just described. Having
made his peace with earthly objects, his last hours were devoted to
solemn preparations for a future state, looking trustfully for the mercy
of Him who listens kindly to the prayer of the penitent. His brother was
constantly with him till his eyes were forever closed in the
death-slumber; and from the day when the remains of her father were
borne to their last resting-place, the orphan Julie found a home with
her uncle, to whose pleasant hearth she was lovingly welcomed, while by
every kind and sympathizing attention her relatives strove to alleviate
the sorrow for a parent’s loss, which at first seemed almost
insupportable.
* * * * *
THE UNSEPULCHRED RELICS.
BY MRS. L. S. GOODWIN.
“Far out of the usual course of vessels crossing that ocean,
they discovered an unknown island, covered with majestic trees.
The captain, with a portion of the crew, went on shore, and
after traversing its entire circumference without seeing a
solitary representative of the animal kingdom, were about to
return to their ship, when the skeleton of a man was found upon
the beach, and beside it lay a partially constructed boat.”
Bleaching upon the sands that pave
An unknown islet strand,
Where surges bear from mermaid cave
The music of her band,
A clayey temple’s ruin lies—
Of that grand pile a part
Whereon the Architect Divine
Displayed His wondrous art;
Its tenant long since hath obeyed
The summons to depart.
Mysterious, as dire, the doom
That cast a death-scene where
Deep solitude converts to gloom
What else were brightly fair:
Perchance wild waves that made a wreck
Of some ill-fated bark,
Giving his valiant comrades all
To feast the rav’nous shark,
Swept hither this lone mariner,
For misery a mark.
Yon half-completed boat his lot
In mournful tones doth tell;
With what assiduous zeal he wrought
Upon that tiny cell,
Which promised o’er the billows broad
The worn one to convey
Within compassion’s genial realm,
Where woes find sweet allay;
’Twere better e’en the sea should whelm
Than thus with want hold fray.
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