"A worthy wight his friend was ever known, Some generous cause did still his lips inspire; He begs the knight by friendships long agone To shelter from his lawyers cruel ire

An auncient hinde, around whose cheerlesse fire Sat grief, and pale disease. The poor mans wrong Affects the knight: his inmost harts desire Gleams through his eyes; yet all confusd, and stung

With inward pain, he looks, and silence guards his tongue.

"See, while his friend entreats and urges still, See, how with sidelong glaunce and haviour shy He steals the look to read his lemmans will, Watchful the dawn of an assent to spy.

NATHANIEL COTTON was a physician, who paid particular attention to the subject of mental disorders; and kept a receptacle for insane patients

at St. Albans. Cowper was for some time under his care.

THE FIRESIDE.*

DEAR Chloe, while the busy crowd,
The vain, the wealthy, and the proud,
In folly's maze advance;
Though singularity and pride
Be call'd our choice, we'll step aside,
Nor join the giddy dance.

From the gay world we'll oft retire
To our own family and fire,

Where love our hours employs;
No noisy neighbour enters here,
No intermeddling stranger near,
To spoil our heartfelt joys.

If solid happiness we prize,
Within our breast this jewel lies,

And they are fools who roam;

. The world hath nothing to bestow,
From our own selves our bliss must flow,
And that dear hut our home.

Of rest was Noah's dove bereft,
When with impatient wing she left

That safe retreat, the ark;
Giving her vain excursions o'er,
The disappointed bird once more
Explored the sacred bark.

Though fools spurn Hymen's gentle powers, We, who improve his golden hours,

By sweet experience know,
That marriage, rightly understood,
Gives to the tender and the good
A paradise below.

Our babes shall richest comfort bring;
If tutor'd right they'll prove a spring

Whence pleasures ever rise;

We'll form their minds with studious care, To all that's manly, good, and fair,

And train them for the skies.

While they our wisest hours engage,
They'll joy our youth, support our age,
And crown our hoary hairs;
They'll grow in virtue every day,
And they our fondest loves repay,
And recompense our cares.

[* Cotton's well-known stanzas entitled The Fireside, still hold, and are likely to retain, a place in popular selections."-SOUTHEY, Life of Cowper, vol. i. p. 148.

No borrow'd joys! they're all our own, While to the world we live unknown,

Or by the world forgot: Monarchs! we envy not your state, We look with pity on the great,

And bless our humble lot.

Our portion is not large, indeed,
But then how little do we need,

For nature's calls are few!
In this the art of living lies,
To want no more than may suffice,
And make that little do.

We'll therefore relish with content,
Whate'er kind Providence has sent,
Nor aim beyond our power;
For, if our stock be very small,
"Tis prudence to enjoy it all,

Nor lose the present hour.

To be resign'd when ills betide,
Patient when favours are denied,

And pleased with favours given; Dear Chloe, this is wisdom's part, This is that incense of the heart,

Whose fragrance smells to heaven.

We'll ask no long protracted treat,
Since winter-life is seldom sweet;

But when our feast is o'er,
Grateful from table we'll arise,
Nor grudge our sons, with envious eyes,
The relics of our store.

Thus hand in hand through life we'll go; Its checker'd paths of joy and woe

With cautious steps we'll tread; Quit its vain scenes without a tear, Without a trouble, or a fear,

And mingle with the dead.

While conscience like a faithful friend,
Shall through the gloomy vale attend,
And cheer our dying breath;
Shall, when all other comforts cease,
Like a kind angel whisper peace,

And smooth the bed of death.

A poem like this, which depends altogether upon its truthfulness, should have nothing to do with Chloe or with Hymen.]

Of this American poet I am sorry to be able to give the British reader no account. I believe

his personal history is as little known as his poetry on this side of the Atlantic.

FROM HIS "CONQUEST OF CANAAN," BOOK V. LOND. REPRINTED 1788.

DEATH OF IRAD, AND LAMENTATION OF SELIMA
OVER HIS BODY.

MID countless warrior's Irad's limbs were spread,
Even there distinguish'd from the vulgar dead;
Fair as the spring, and bright as rising day,
His snowy bosom open'd as he lay :
From the deep wound a little stream of blood
In silence fell, and on the javelin glow'd.
Grim Jabin, frowning o'er his hapless head,
Deap in his bosom plunged the cruel blade;
Foes even in death his vengeance ne'er forgave,
But hail'd their doom insatiate as the grave;
No worth, no bravery, could his rage disarm,
Nor smiling love could melt, nor beauty warm.
But now th' approaching clarions' dreadful sound
Denounces flight, and shakes the banner'd ground.
From clouded plains increasing thunders rise,
And drifted volumes roll along the skies;
At once the chief commands th' unnumber'd
throng,

Like gathering tempests darkly pour'd along;
High on the winds, unfurl'd in purple pride,
The imperial standard cast the view aside;
A hero there sublimely seem'd to stand,
To point the conquest, and the flight command;
In arms of burnish'd gold the warrior shone,
And waved and brighten'd in the falling sun.

But now sublime, in crimson triumph borne,
The sacred standard mock'd th' etherial morn;
Wide on the winds its waving splendours flow'd,
And call'd the warriors from the distant wood.
Behind great Joshua, Hazor's sons to dare,
Pours the bold thousands to the western war;
Beyond Ai's wall the less'ning heathen train
In well-form'd squadrons cross the distant plain;
Part still in sight their shady files extend,
Part fill the wood, and part the hills ascend;
To cease from toil the prudent chief commands,
And balmy quiet soothes the wearied bands.

Half lost in mountain groves the sun's broad ray
Shower'd a full splendour round his evening

way.

Slow Joshua strode the lovely youth to find,
Th' unwilling bands more slowly moved behind.
Soon as the matchless form arose to view,
O'er their sad faces shone the sorrowing dew:

Borne by six chiefs, in silence o'er the plain, Fair Irad moved; before the mournful train Great Joshua's arm sustain'd his sword and shield. Th' affected thousands length'ning through the field;

When, crown'd with flow'rs, the maidens at her side,

With gentle steps advanced great Caleb's pride;
Her snowy hand, inspired by restless love,
Of the lone wild-rose two rich wreaths inwove,
Fresh in her hands the flowers rejoiced to bloom,
And round the fair one shed a mild perfume.
O'er all the train her active glances roved,
She gazed, and gazing miss'd the youth she loved,
Some dire mischance her boding heart divined,
And thronging terrors fill'd her anxious mind.
As near the host her quick'ning footsteps drew,
The breathless hero met her trembling view!
From her chill'd hand the headlong roses fell,
And life's gay beauty bade her cheeks farewell,
And sunk to earth.

With anguish Caleb saw her faded charms,
And caught the favourite in his hast'ning arms
Revived, with piercing voice that froze his soul,
She forced the big round tear unwish'd to roll:
By all his love besought him soon to lead
Where cruel friendship snatch'd the lovely dead.
In vain the chief his anguish strove to hide,
Sighs rent his breast and chill'd the vital tide.

To Joshua then, whose heart beside her mourn'd,
With gaze of keen distress the charmer turn'd.
"Oh! generous chief, to misery ever kind,
Thou lovest my sire-support his sinking mind.
Thy friendly wish delights to lessen woe,
See how his tears for fallen Irad flow.
He claims thy friendship-Generous hero! see,
Lost to himself, his fondness bleeds for me.
312

653

To view the hapless youth distress'd, he fears
Would wound my soul, and force too copious tears;
But lead-Oh! lead me where the youth is borne-
Calm is my heart, nor will my bosom mourn;
So cold that heart it yields no pitying sigh;
And see, no tear bedews this marbled eye!

She said;

*

*

* reclined On Joshua's arm, she forced his melting mind. Pressing her hand, he traced a gentle way, Where breathless Irad, lost in slumbers, lay. From the pale face his chilling hand withdrew The decent veil, and gave the youth to view. Fix'd o'er the form with solemn gaze she hung, And strong deep sighs burst o'er her frozen tongue. On Joshua then she cast a wistful lookWild was her tearless eye, and rolling spoke Anguish unutterable-thrice she tried To vent her woes, and thrice her efforts died. At length, in accents of ecstatic grief, Her voice, bewilder'd, gave her heart relief. "Is this the doom we dread? Is this to die! To sleep, to feel no more, to close the eye? Slight is the change-how vain the childish fear That trembles and recoils when death is near. I too, methinks, would share the peaceful doom, And seek a calm repose in Irad's tomb. This breath, I know, this useless breath must fail, These eyes be darken'd, and this face grow paleBut thou art pale, O youth! thy lot I crave, And every grief shall vanish in the grave!" She ceased: the tender chief without delay, Soft pressing, kindly forced her steps away. Slow toward the camp with solemn pace they drew. The corse moves on, the mournful bands pursue. Unnumber'd tears their hapless fate bewail, And voice to voice resounds the dreadful tale. Unhappy, to their tents the host retired, And gradual o'er the mountains day expired.

FROM THE SAME.

Prediction made by the angel to Joshua of the future discovery and happiness of America-and of the Millennium.

FAR o'er yon azure main thy view extend, Where seas and skies in blue confusion blend: Lo, there a mighty realm, by Heav'n design'd The last retreat for poor oppress'd mankind; Form'd with that pomp which marks the hand divine,

And clothes yon vault where worlds unnumber'd shine.

Here spacious plains in solemn grandeur spread,
Here cloudy forests cast eternal shade;

Rich valleys wind, the sky-tall mountains brave,
And inland seas for commerce spread the wave.
With nobler floods the sea-like rivers roll,
And fairer lustre purples round the pole.
Here, warm'd by happy suns, gay mines unfold
The useful iron and the lasting gold;
Pure, changing gems in silence learn to glow,
And mock the splendours of the covenant bow.

On countless hills, by savage footsteps trod,
That smile to see the future harvest nod,
In glad succession plants unnumber'd bloom,
And flowers unnumber'd breathe a rich perfume.
Hence life once more a length of days shall claim,
And health, reviving, light her purple flame.

Far from all realms this world imperial lies,
Seas roll between, and threat'ning tempests rise.
Alike removed beyond ambition's pale,
And the bold pinions of the vent'rous sail;
Till circling years the destined period bring,
And a new Moses lift the daring wing;
Through trackless seas an unknown flight explores,
And hails a new Canaan's promised shores.

On yon far strand behold that little train
Ascending vent'rous o'er the unmeasured main;
No dangers fright, no ills the course delay,
'Tis virtue prompts, and God directs the way.
Speed-speed, ye sons of truth! let Heav'n be-
friend,

Let angels waft you, and let peace attend.
Oh! smile, thou sky serene; ye storms, retire;
And airs of Eden every sail inspire.

Swift o'er the main behold the canvas fly,
And fade and fade beneath the farthest sky:
See verdant fields the changing waste unfold;
See sudden harvest dress the plains in gold;
In lofty walls the moving rocks ascend,
And dancing woods to spires and temples bend.
Meantime, expanding o'er earth's distant ends,
Lo, Slavery's gloom in sable pomp ascends!
Far round each eastern clime her volumes roll,
And pour deep shading to the sadden'd pole.
How the world droops beneath the fearful blast,
The plains all wither'd, and the skies o'ercast.