Oh! say, is it thus, in the mirth-bringing hour, When friends are assembled, when wit, in full flower,

Shoots forth from the lip, under Bacchus's dew,
In blossoms of thought ever springing and new —
Do you sometimes remember, and hallow the brim
Of your cup with a sigh, as you crown it to him
Who is lonely and sad in these valleys so fair,
And would pine in elysium, if friends were not
there!

Last night, when we came from the Calabash-
Tree,

When my limbs were at rest and my spirit was free,
The glow of the grape and the dreams of the day
Set the magical springs of my fancy in play,
And oh, such a vision has haunted me then
I would slumber for ages to witness again.
The many
I like and the few I adore,
The friends who were dear and beloved before,
But never till now so beloved and dear,
At the call of my fancy, surrounded me here;
And soon,-oh, at once, did the light of their smiles
To a paradise brighten this region of isles;
More lucid the wave, as they look'd on it, flow'd,
And brighter the rose, as they gather'd it, glow'd.
Not the valleys Heraan (though water'd by rills
Of the pearliest flow, from those pastoral hills,?
Where the Song of the Shepherd, primeval and wild,
Was taught to the nymphs by their mystical child,)
Could boast such a lustre o'er land and o'er wave
As the magic of love to this paradise gave.

1 Pinkerton has said that "a good history and description of the Bermudas might afford a pleasing addition to the geographical library;" but there certainly are not materials for such a work. The island, since the time of its discovery, has experienced so very few vicissitudes, the people have been so indolent, and their trade so limited, that there is but little which the historian could amplify into importance; and, with respect to the natural productions of the country, the few which the inhabitants can be induced to cultivate are so common in the West Indies, that they have been described by every naturalist who has written any account of those islands.

It is often asserted by the trans-Atlantic politicians that this little colony deserves more attention from the mother-country than it receives, and it certainly possesses advantages of situation, to which we should not be long insensible, if it were once in the hands of an enemy. I was told by a celebrated friend of Washington, at New York, that they had formed a plan for its capture towards the conclusion of the American War; "with the intention (as he expressed himself) of making it a nest of hornets for the annoyance of British trade in that part of the world." And there is no doubt it lies so conveniently in the track to the West Indies, that an enemy might with ease convert it into a very harassing impediment.

The plan of Bishop Berkeley for a college at Bermuda, where American savages might be converted and educated, though concurred in by the government of the day, was a wild and useless speculation. Mr. Hamilton, who was governor of the island some years since, proposed, if I mistake not, the esta

blishment of a marine academy for the instruction of those children of West Indians, who might be intended for any nautical employment. This was a more rational idea, and for something of this nature the island is admirably calculated. But the plan should be much more extensive, and embrace a general system of education; which would relieve the colonists from the alternative to which they are reduced at present, of either sending their sons to England for instruction, or intrusting them to colleges in the states of America, where ideas, by no means favourable to Great Britain, are very sedulously inculcated.

The women of Bermuda, though not generally handsome, have an affectionate languor in their look and manner, which is always interesting. What the French imply by their epithet aimante seems very much the character of the young Bermudian girls-that predisposition to loving, which, with out being awakened by any particular object, diffuses itself through the general manner in a tone of tenderness that never fails to fascinate. The men of the island, I confess, are not very civilised; and the old philosopher, who imagined that, after this life, men would be changed into mules, and women into turtle-doves, would find the metamorphosis in some degree anticipated at Bermuda.

2 Mountains of Sicily, upon which Daphnis, the first inventor of bucolic poetry, was nursed by the nymphs. See the lively description of these mountains in Diodorus Siculus, lib. iv. Ηραια γαρ ορη κατα την Σικελίαν εστιν, ὁ φασι καλλι,

2. T. λ.

Oh magic of love! unembellished by you, Hath the garden a blush or the landscape a hue ? Or shines there a vista in nature or art, Like that which Love opes thro' the eye to the heart?

Alas, that a vision so happy should fade! That, when morning around me in brilliancy play'd, The rose and the stream I had thought of at night Should still be before me, unfadingly bright; While the friends, who had seem'd to hang over the stream,

And to gather the roses, had fled with my dream.

But look, where, all ready, in sailing array, The bark that's to carry these pages away, 1 Impatiently flutters her wing to the wind, And will soon leave these islets of Ariel behind. What billows, what gales is she fated to prove, Ere she sleep in the lee of the land that I love! Yet pleasant the swell of the billows would be, And the roar of those gales would be music to me. Not the tranquillest air that the winds ever blew, Not the sunniest tears of the summer-eve dew, Were as sweet as the storm, or as bright as the foam Of the surge, that would hurry your wanderer home.

THE

STEERSMAN'S SONG,

WRITTEN ABOARD THE BOSTON FRIGATE 28TH APRIL.2

WHEN freshly blows the northern gale,
And under courses snug we fly;
Or when light breezes swell the sail,

And royals proudly sweep the sky;
'Longside the wheel, unwearied still
I stand, and, as my watchful eye
Doth mark the needle's faithful thrill,
I think of her I love, and cry,

Port, my boy! port.

When calms delay, or breezes blow
Right from the point we wish to steer;
When by the wind close-haul'd we go,
And strive in vain the port to near;
I think 'tis thus the fates defer

My bliss with one that's far away,

1 A ship, ready to sail for England.

2 I left Bermuda in the Boston about the middle of April, in company with the Cambrian and Leander, aboard the latter of which was the Admiral, Sir Andrew Mitchell, who divides his year between Halifax and Bermuda, and is the very soul of society and good-fellowship to both. We separated in a few days, and the Boston, after a short cruise, proceeded to New York.

The fervid follies and the faults of such
As wrongly feel, because they feel too much;
Then might experience make the fever less,
Nay, graft a virtue on each warm excess.
But no; 'tis heartless, speculative ill,
All youth's transgression with all age's chill;
The apathy of wrong, the bosom's ice,
A slow and cold stagnation into vice.

Long has the love of gold, that meanest rage, And latest folly of man's sinking age, Which, rarely venturing in the van of life, While nobler passions wage their heated strife, Comes skulking last, with selfishness and fear, And dies, collecting lumber in the rear,— Long has it palsied every grasping hand And greedy spirit through this bartering land; Turn'd life to traffic, set the demon gold So loose abroad that virtue's self is sold, And conscience, truth, and honesty are made To rise and fall, like other wares of trade.1

Already in this free, this virtuous state,
Which, Frenchmen tell us, was ordain'd by fate,
To show the world, what high perfection springs
From rabble senators, and merchant kings,—
Even here already patriots learn to steal
Their private perquisites from public weal,
And, guardians of the country's sacred fire,
Like Afric's priests, let out the flame for hire.
Those vaunted demagogues, who nobly rose
From England's debtors to be England's foes,
Who could their monarch in their purse forget,
And break allegiance, but to cancel debt,3
Have prov'd at length, the mineral's tempting
hue,

Which makes a patriot, can unmake him too.+
Oh! Freedom, Freedom, how I hate thy cant !
Not Eastern bombast, not the savage rant
Of purpled madmen, were they number'd all
From Roman Nero down to Russian Paul,

1 "Nous voyons que, dans les pays où l'on n'est affecté que de l'esprit de commerce, on trafique de toutes les actions humaines et de toutes les vertus morales."— Montesquieu, de l'Esprit des Lois, liv. xx. chap. 2.

2 I trust I shall not be suspected of a wish to justify those arbitrary steps of the English government which the colonies found it so necessary to resist; my only object here is to expose the selfish motive of some of the leading American demagogues.

3 The most persevering enemy to the interests of this country, amongst the politicians of the western world, has been a Virginian merchant, who, finding it easier to settle his conscience than his debts, was one of the first to raise the standard against Great Britain, and has ever since endeavoured to revenge upon the whole country the obligations which he lies under to a few of its merchants.

• See Porcupine's account of the Pennsylvania Insurrection

Could grate upon my ear so mean, so base.
As the rank jargon of that factious race,
Who, poor of heart and prodigal of words,
Formed to be slaves, yet struggling to be lords,
Strut forth, as patriots, from their negro-marts,
And shout for rights, with rapine in their hearts.

Who can, with patience, for a moment see The medley mass of pride and misery, Of whips and charters, manacles and rights, Of slaving blacks and democratic whites," And all the piebald polity that reigns In free confusion o'er Columbia's plains? To think that man, thou just and gentle God! Should stand before thee with a tyrant's rod O'er creatures like himself, with souls from thee, Yet dare to boast of perfect liberty; Away, away- I'd rather hold my neck By doubtful tenure from a sultan's beck, In climes, where liberty has scarce been nam'd, Nor any right but that of ruling claim'd, Than thus to live, where bastard Freedom waves Her fustian flag in mockery over slaves; Where motley laws admitting no degree Betwixt the vilely slav'd and madly freeAlike the bondage and the licence suit, The brute made ruler and the man made brute.

But, while I thus, my friend, in flowerless song,
So feebly paint, what yet I feel so strong,
The ills, the vices of the land, where first
Those rebel fiends, that rack the world, were nurst,
Where treason's arm by royalty was nerv'd,
And Frenchmen learn'd to crush the throne they
serv'd-

Thou, calmly lull'd in dreams of classic thought,
By bards illumin'd and by sages taught,
Pant'st to be all, upon this mortal scene,
That bard hath fancied or that sage hath been.
Why should I wake thee? why severely chase
The lovely forms of virtue and of grace,

in 1794. In short, see Porcupine's works throughout, for ample corroboration of every sentiment which I have ventured to express. In saying this, I refer less to the comments of that writer thau to the occurrences which he has related and the documents which he has preserved. Opinion may be suspected of bias, but facts speak for themselves.

5 In Virginia the effects of this system begin to be felt rather seriously. While the master raves of liberty, the slave cannot but catch the contagion, and accordingly there seldom elapses a month without some alarm of insurrection amongst the negroes. The accession of Louisiana, it is feared, will increase this embarrassment; as the numerous emigrations, which are expected to take place, from the southern states to this newly acquired territory, will considerably diminish the white population, and thus strengthen the proportion of negroes, to a degree which must ultimately be ruinous.