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Tuesday Morn. Ap. 14.
How sweetly serene, how joyously bright is this day! One of the
cares that might have interfered with my enjoyment of it is
removed, for I have seen her & she is well. She likewise promises
to walk with me at the close of this enchanting day. What
spectacle, most delicious, does this World afford? The
smile of contentment & serenity on the face we love is that
spectacle; with the sweet belief that this contentment is confirmed
& this Serenity brightened, by our own presence, welfare & love;
And such was the spectacle, which, this morning, I beheld.
I am going to walk & visit with her this evening. I am alrea
dy fatigued by much walking to a different purpose. I shall
probably have calls to walk this afternoon, by which weariness
& languor may increase upon me, & I may enter her company
without that bounding & elastic vivacity of animal feeling which
I always desire to possess on such an occasion. And will not her
presence dissipate my languor, recruit my strength & restore my
frame to sprightliness & vigour, while it soothes my heart & illumi=
=nates my Imagination? Yes: It will.
How happy is thy lot, my Love! The day is before thee. Safety
& comfort wrap thee in their arms. Dignified Seclusion; freedom from
all brutalizing toils; all ignoble wants; all heart=depressing cares
is thy privilege. How shalt thou employ thy time? What form
of pleasure shall attend upon, beguile & chear & improve thy solitary
hours?
Thou wilt read. A picture of many=coloured life shall
pass before thee. Reclining at thy ease, thou shalt give the reins
to thy fancy. Thy visionary stage shall be full of motly actors,
& variagated Scenery. From the well adjusted exhibition, wisdom
shall imperceptibly insinuate her useful lessons, & truth, by
being coupled with delight, shall more easily seduce thee to
her side.
Ah! How happy is he, whom Heaven has invested with some power
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over thy happiness, because he knows that he never will be faithless
to that sacred trust. How blest is he, whose happiness arises from
the dignity & excellence of her, in whom, his most jealous scrutiny
finds only new motives to admire & to doat upon.
—.. —.. —..—
Last night I parted from you—not quite satisfied. You were not
quite so generous as you had been; as you ought to be. Yet when
I recollected that sweet sportiveness; that conscious delight that played
upon your features while you flourished with the pen, I could
keep hold of my displeasure no longer.
Dearest Creature! You must—You must be kind.~
While hieing homeward, & calling up your repulses, I could
not help muttering:
Inchanting Tongue! | |
Persuasive; Virgin Magesty, with mild | |
And sweet, allayd; yet terrible t’approach! | |
Dare I to murmer? No. | |
For what thou giv’st, O let my grateful heart | |
Transcend all former bounds of Eloquence | |
What thou withholdst O! let me strive to think | |
Not due to me; or if that will not be | |
O let me hoard up all my plaints | |
Nor suffer, one, my seal’d=up lips to ‘scape.~ | |
And nought the incomplying soul bespeak, | |
But downcast looks, & half=reproachful sighs.~ |
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Mea Domina.~
Eliza Linn.
Walnut Street.~