Volume V Part 34 (1/2)
Jane Cross Bell, better known by her a.s.sumed name of ”Gertrude,” is the daughter of the late James Bell, Esq., Advocate, and was born in Glasgow. Her first effusions, written in early youth, were published in the _Greenock Advertiser_, while her father for a short time resided in that town, as a.s.sessor to the Magistrates. To the pages of the _Edinburgh Literary Journal_ she afterwards contributed numerous poetical compositions, and subsequently various articles in prose and verse to the _Scottish Christian Herald_, then under the able editors.h.i.+p of the Rev. Dr Gardner. In 1836, ”Gertrude” published a small volume of tales and sketches, ent.i.tled, ”The Piety of Daily Life;” and, in 1838, a duodecimo volume of lyric poetry, named, ”April Hours.” Her latest work, ”Woman's History,” appeared in 1848.
In July 1837, Miss Bell was married to her cousin, Mr J. B. Simpson, and has since resided chiefly in Glasgow. Amidst numerous domestic avocations in which she has latterly been involved, Mrs Simpson continues to devote a considerable portion of her time to literary pursuits. She is at present engaged in a poetical work of a more ambitious description than any she has yet offered to the public.
GENTLENESS.
Oh! the winning charm of gentleness, so beautiful to me, 'Tis this has bound my soul so long, so tenderly, to thee; The gentle heart, like jewel bright, beneath the ocean blue, In every look and tone of thine, still s.h.i.+ning sweetly through!
What though the crowd with wonder bow, before great genius' fire, And wit, with lightning flash, commands to reverence and admire; 'Tis gentleness alone that gains the tribute of our love, And falls upon the ear, like dew on flowers, from heaven above!
Ah! many a day has pa.s.s'd since then, yet I remember well, Once from my lips an angry thought, in hasty accents fell; A word of wrath I utter'd, in a light and wayward mood-- Of wrath to thee, my earliest friend, the n.o.ble and the good!
No answering words were given for mine, but, calm and bright as now, Thy speaking eyes a moment dwelt upon my ruffled brow, And then a sweet, forgiving smile came o'er thy pensive face, And thy hand was softly tender'd me, with melancholy grace.
An instant mute and motionless, before thee did I stand, And gazed upon thy placid mien, thy smile, thy proffer'd hand-- Ah! ne'er could angel, sent to walk this earth of sinful men, Look lovelier in his robes of light, than thou to me wert then!
I long'd to weep--I strove to speak--no words came from my tongue, Then silently to thy embrace, I wildly, fondly sprung; The sting of guilt, like lightning, struck to my awaken'd mind; I could have borne to meet thy wrath--'twas death to see thee kind!
'Tis ever thus! when anger wins but anger in return, A trifle grows a thing of weight, and fast the fire will burn; But when reproachful words are still in mild forgiveness past, The proudest soul will own his fault, and melt in tears at last!
O Gentleness! thy gentleness, so beautiful to me!
It will ever bind my heart in love and tenderness to thee; I bless thee for all high-born thoughts, that fill that breast of thine, But most, I bless thee for that gift of gentleness divine!
HE LOVED HER FOR HER MERRY EYE.
He loved her for her merry eye, That, like the vesper star, In evening's blue and deepening sky, Shed light and joy afar!
He loved her for her golden hair, That o'er her shoulders hung; He loved her for her happy voice, The music of her tongue.
He loved her for her airy form Of animated grace; He loved her for the light of soul, That brighten'd in her face.
He loved her for her simple heart, A shrine of gentle things; He loved her for her sunny hopes, Her gay imaginings.
But not for him that bosom beat, Or glanced that merry eye, Beneath whose diamond light he felt It would be heaven to die.
He never told her of his love, He breathed no prayer--no vow; But sat in silence by her side, And gazed upon her brow.
And when, at length, she pa.s.s'd away, Another's smiling bride, He made his home 'mid ocean's waves-- He died upon its tide.