Graham's Magazine Vol XXXIII No. 4 October 1848

"When I reached Mrs. Langley's, I found the old lady attended by but one gentleman, who, beside ourselves, was her only visiter. What was my surprise to hear her introduce him as her son, Templeton Langley. The dinner passed more pleasantly than usual, for Mr. Langley made himself very agreeable. After dinner he proposed we should go to the concert, as he felt an interest in the new primadonna, having heard her at her debût in Europe. I made an objection, which was overruled by Mrs. Langley's expressing a desire – strange for her – to go likewise; and we went. I had not been ten minutes in the room when, on lifting my eyes, the first person I saw was Harry Morton looking sternly at me. Foolishly, I grew embarrassed, my face burned, and my whole frame trembled with nervous agitation. He did not approach me, but gave me only a cold bow. 'He thinks me guilty of falsehood,' I said to myself. How wretchedly passed the evening, and yet I have no doubt I was an object of envy to many of my young lady friends. The rich distingué, Templeton Langley showed himself my devoted admirer, while his mother, the acknowledged leader of ton, sat beside us smiling approvingly. My indifferent, cold manner, my simple costume, and my beautiful face, completed that evening the conquest of the fastidious, fashionable young man. You cannot imagine the delight of my mother, when day after day found Templeton Langley constantly beside me, she could scarcely restrain her exultation; while I, poor child, listened with aching, throbbing senses for the approach of one who never came near me. Two or three weeks passed in a whirl of gayety. It was the close of the season, and one or two brides in our circle made the parties very constant. Mrs. Langley proposed that our family should join her son and herself in their summer visit to the Lakes; accordingly we did so, and we spent more than three months traveling. Ere the close of those three months, Templeton Langley offered himself to me. I could not describe to you the scene that ensued between my mother and myself when I rejected him. She was a worldly woman, and my conduct seemed perfectly wild to her. She remonstrated, persuaded, then reproached me in impatient, angry tones. My father was a quiet, amiable man, and rarely interfered with my mother in her management, but he fortunately shook off enough of his lethargy to come to my rescue at this time.

"'If Mary does not love Mr. Langley,' he said, 'why urge her to marry him? Do not scold the poor child,' and he drew me toward him tenderly.

"Templeton Langley was rather an indifferent person in every way. His wealth, combined with his situation in the fashionable world, placed him in a fictitious light; but he had little intelligence, no originality, and only a passable personal appearance. I was constantly drawing the comparison between him and Harry Morton. Harry was so handsome, so brilliant in conversation – and this thought rendered poor Mr. Langley, with all his fastidious, elegant manners, quite unbearable to me. To think of being tied to such a man for life was perfect martyrdom for me; and although hitherto so yielding, I showed myself on this occasion obstinate. Floods of tears I shed, and my mother fancied at first she could overcome my 'ridiculous sentimentality,' as she called it, but in vain; and finding a friend in my father, I remained firm. I felt more sorry for old Mrs. Langley, who was, indeed, terribly distressed, but she treated me very kindly, and exonerated me from all blame. She was, however, really very fond of me, and had set her heart upon having me for a daughter. Mr. Langley returned to Europe, and for many months our circle of friends were quite at a loss to know whether he had offered, been accepted, or refused, or whether he had only flirted with me. My mother felt too disappointed to boast of the rejection; and, moreover, she was so occupied in bringing out my sister, Emma, as to have little time to think of me or my affairs. My sister was but seventeen, three years younger than I, but much nearer my age in appearance. I found myself now of but secondary consideration in my mother's eyes. I fear she really disliked me then. She was an ambitious woman, and had set her heart upon my making a brilliant match; this favorite hope of hers I had blighted, and feeling little interest in society, I became of less consequence, for my sad, absent manner made me, of course, uninteresting; therefore, as my reign as a belle was over, my poor mother now sought to dismiss me from her mind and occupy herself with other objects.

"Harry Morton had gone to the Southwest ere we returned from our summer's journey, and we never met again. A year or so afterward I heard of his marriage with a dashing southern belle, and he is now a distinguished man at the South. After these perplexing, unfortunate misunderstandings, my health failed, and for a long while I was an invalid, rarely appearing in society. My two sisters, Emma and Alice, were more lucky than I, for they married happily, and with my mother's gratified approbation – for they each made the 'best match of their season.' Neither one was so pretty as I had been, and as my mother used to ejaculate,

"'Thank Heaven! neither Emma nor Alice are belles; they at least will not trouble me with their exaggerated notions about love and all that nonsense.'

"I passed a miserable, wretched existence for a year or more after Harry and I were separated. How earnestly I prayed for death, so completely prostrated was my spirit by my disappointment. I felt as lonely as I had at the time of dear Aunt Mary's death. In time, however, I aroused myself from my morbid feelings, and in reading and study found at first occupation, then strength and content.

"The week after my youngest sister was married my father was stricken down with paralysis. I was the only one at home with my parents, for my bride sister had sailed for Europe the day after her wedding, and Emma was far distant in her Southern home, having married a wealthy South Carolinian two years before. Faithfully I devoted myself to my father, and when my mother, a year afterward, was seized with a painful, lingering disease, I made myself so necessary to her comfort, that she at last acknowledged, that what had appeared to be her greatest trouble had proved her greatest blessing. She altered very much before her death, and lost entirely all those worldly feelings which had actuated her during her early life. She suffered for many years at times agonizing pain, and during this time I was sole companion and nurse to my parents. Often I thanked Providence for having denied to me my early love, granting to me in lieu an opportunity of fulfilling the most holy of duties. See, Enna, to what an unromantic and yet enviable state of mind I at last attained. Believe me, dearest, we never should grieve over unavoidable troubles, for many times they are but the rough husk of that sweet kernel – a hidden blessing."

ZENOBIA

BY MYRON L. MASON

'Twas holyday in Rome. Her sevenfold hills
Were trembling with the tread of multitudes
Who thronged her streets. Hushed was the busy hum
Of labor. Silent in the shops reposed
The implements of toil. A common love
Of country, and a zeal for her renown,
Had warmed all hearts, and mingled for a day
Plebian ardor with patrician pride.
The sire, the son, the matron and the maid,
Joined in bestowing on their emperor
The joyous benedictions of the state.
Alas! about that day's magnificence
Was spread a web of shame! The victor's sword
Was stained with cowardice – his dazzling fame
Tarnished by insult to a fallen woman.
Returning from his conquests in the East,
Aurelian led in his triumphant train
Palmyra's beauteous queen, Zenobia,
Whose only crime had been the love she bore
To her own country and her household gods.

Long had the Orient owned the sovereign sway
Of Rome imperial, and in forced submission
Had bowed the neck to the oppressor's yoke.
The corn of Syria, her fruits and wares,
The pearls of India, Araby's perfumes,
The golden treasures of the mountains, all
Profusely poured in her luxurious lap,
Crowned to the full her proud magnificence.
Rome regal, throned on her eternal hills,
With power supreme and wide-extended hand,
Plundered the prostrate nations without stint
Of all she coveted, and, chiefly thou,
O Liberty, the birthright boon of Heaven.
But Rome had passed her noon; her despotism
Was overgrown; an earthquake was at work
At her foundations; and new dynasties,
Striking their roots in ripening revolutions,
Were soon to sway the destinies of realms.

The East was in revolt. The myriad seeds
Of dark rebellion, sown by tyranny,
And watered by the blood of patriots slain,
Were springing into life on every hand.
Success was alternating in this strife
'Twixt power and right, and anxious Victory,
With balance poised, the doubtful issue feared.
Amid the fierce contention, 'mid the din
Of war's sublime encounter, and the crash
Of falling systems old, Palmyra's queen
Followed her valiant lord, Palmyra's king.
Ever beside him in the hour of peril,
She warded from his breast the battle's rage;
And in the councils of the cabinet
Her prudent wisdom was her husband's guide.

Domestic treason, with insidious stab,
Snatched from Zenobia's side her gallant lord,
And threw into her hand the exigencies
Of an unstable and capricious throne.
Yet was her genius not inadequate.
The precepts of experience, intertwined
With intellectual power of lofty grade,
Combined to raise Palmyra's beauteous queen
High in the golden scale of moral greatness.
Under the teachings of the good Longinus
The streams of science flowed into her mind;
And, like the fountain-fostered mountain lake,
Her soul was pure as its ethereal food.
The patronage bestowed on learned men
Declared her love for letters. The rewards,
Rich and unnumbered, she conferred on merit
Her own refined, exalted taste betrayed.
Her graceful and majestic figure, crowned
With beauty such as few but angels wear,
Like the rich casing that surrounds the gem,
Heightened the splendor of her brilliant genius.
Equally daring on the battle-field
And in the chase, her prudence and her courage,
Displayed in many a hot emergency,
Had twined victorious laurel round her brow.