[Footnote 1: These verses, printed from an original MS. of Lindley
Murray, and, as we believe, never before published, present that
celebrated grammarian in an entirely new point of view, and give him
strong claims to the character of a poet. A sister of Mr. Murray
married, we think, one of the Hoffmans of New York, and it is possible
some of that highly respected family may have in their possession some
other metrical pieces from his pen. It is somewhat remarkable that the
present lines involve an odd _grammatical_ error of construction in
the concluding stanza.]
When on thy bosom I recline,
Enraptur'd still to call thee mine,
To call thee mine for life;
I glory in the sacred ties,
Which modern wits and fools despise,
Of Husband and of Wife.
One mutual flame inspires our bliss;
The tender look, the melting kiss,
Even years have not destroyed;
Some sweet sensation, ever new,
Springs up and proves the maxim true,
That Love can ne'er be cloy'd.
Have I a wish?—'tis all for thee,
Hast thou a wish?—'tis all for me.
So soft our moments move,
That angels look with ardent gaze,
Well pleas'd to see our happy days,
And bid us live—and love.
If cares arise—and cares will come—
Thy bosom is my softest home;
I'll lull me there to rest:
And is there ought disturbs my fair?
I'll bid her sigh out every care,
And lose it in my breast.
Have I a wish?—'tis all her own,
All hers and mine are roll'd in one—
Our hearts are so entwin'd,
That, like the ivy round the tree,
Bound up in closest amity,
'Tis Death to be disjoin'd.
SKETCHES OF THE HISTORY
AND PRESENT CONDITION OF TRIPOLI, WITH SOME ACCOUNTS OF THE OTHER
BARBARY STATES.