I’ve quaffed the brimming bowl In mirth’s and madness’ hours— And drenched my thirsty soul In goblets crowned with flowers. Of draughts so pure as this ’Tis luxury to sip, But draught of purer bliss Doth dwell on woman’s lip.
I’ve felt the glowing sun Steal warmly to my heart’s Faint throbs, when gazing on The skies of southern parts. But oh! a sun more bright, A purer, warmer sky, Of joy-embathing light, Is found in woman’s eye.
’Neath holy Music’s spell Hath lain each dream-rapt sense, While on my spirit fell Its gushing eloquence. But oh! a spell there is More potent to rejoice— The soothing lowliness Of woman’s whispered voice.
Then wonder not, if now To her I pledge this cup, To whom my earliest vow First sent its incense up— To her—the soul of verse, Our hope, when hope-bereft— Our blessing ’neath the curse— Our all of Eden left.
Give, give me back the early joy Of youth’s strong hopes, of vows believed— Again, again a dreaming boy Let me be happy, though deceived. For who hath caught the answering sigh Heaving sweet woman’s timid breast, His longing soul fed on her eye, And learned the rapture to be blest— In lingering dalliance now to sip, In boldness now of ardor roving, To drink from eye, cheek, forehead, lip, Of one beloved, and seeming loving. Upon the tell-tale cheek to breathe, Closer the clasping hands to wreathe, As if no earthly power could sever The bosoms met, as met forever— While each responsive fluttering heart, Beating as though ’twould gladly break To tell the joy that tongue ne’er spake, Longs from its heaving breast to part, Nearer and nearer still to press The soul of its soul’s happiness. Oh! who has felt around his soul The spells of this idolatry— And wished not that his days should roll Thus spell-bound to eternity.
Away with wisdom—’tis a cheat— Away with truth—’tis all a lie— Madness alone hath no deceit— Falsehood alone no mockery.
The town or borough of Harrisburg, the political capital of Pennsylvania, lies on the _bank_ of the Susquehanna, about 107 miles west of Philadelphia. I say on the _bank_, not the shore; for here a bold bluff rises a few yards from the northern margin of the river, and the town is, therefore, from ten to fifteen feet above the stream—a fact of consequence to the inhabitants; as the Susquehanna, which, in summer, may be easily forded by children, will frequently, during the spring freshets, rise from six to eight feet, threatening all upon its borders. The houses are built only on the north side of this front street, so as to face the river and leave, besides the beautiful avenue, a handsome esplanade in front of the town, overlooking the river.
