"The FORSAKEN."

Clutha Leader, Volume I, Issue 22, 10 December 1874, Page 2

"The FORSAKEN."

"The readers and personal friends of Edgar Poe will,always remember thd enthusiam with:\which-he wrote and spoke about the poetry of' Stella' (Mrs ti. A. Lewis), and: how, in his exalted critique on her writing he alluded to • The Forsaken,' composed by her when she was but fourteen year's Oldj as « the most beautiful ballad of the kind ever written. We have read it,' he remarks, 'morethan• twemy-tfme§;''and always with increasing* aclmiration. It is; in-.^^!£-D-J beautiful: ' "No We of*'real feeliqg clination to fes.' "-'-Its irresistible chariri is- its absolute "truth—the- Maffected ■naturalness of its thought. The essential poetry of the ideWJ.wOuld only be nn paired by foreign ornament.' -Through *l! c' fil^ I®**l®**- oi its accompisKM ,*au> thoress, we are nq wepabled to. present this | beautiful poem' to the public."— * Mirror. It haj.h been said—for all who die There is a tear; Some pining, bleeding heart to sigh O'er every bier:—. But in that hour of pain, and dread Who will draw near Around my humble couch and shed One farewell tear? Who'd watch life's last departing ray In deep, despair, . , And smoothe my spirit on its way With holy prayer? What mourner round my bier will 00010* In weeds of woe, And follow me to.my long homeSolemn and slow? When lying on my clayey bed, In icy sleep, Who there by pure affection led , Will come and weep; By the pale moon implant the rose Upon my breast^ And bid it cheer my dark repose, , My.lowly rest? Could I but know when I am sleeping L()win.the gtound, One faithful heart, would then be keeping: Watch.all night around ; As if some gem/lay shrined beneath That sod's cold gloom* •Twould mitigate the pangs bf death, And light the tomb. Yes 1 in that hour if I could feel Fromhalispf glee And Buaury's presence, one would steal In secrecy, And come and sit and weep by me In night's deep noon — Oh ! I would ask of memory No other boon. But ah ! a lonelier fate is mine§ A deeper, woe; From alt I love in youth's Bweet time I soon must goDrawn round n?e pale robes of white, In a dark spot To Bletp thto' death's long dreamless night* Lone and forgot.