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Just where the margin's op'ning shade A vista from the waters made, My bird repos'd his silver plume Upon a rich banana's bloom. Oh vision bright! oh spirit fair! What spell, what magic rais'd her there ? 'Twas Nea! slumb'ring calm and mild, And bloomy as the dimpled child, Whose spirit in elysium keeps Its playful sabbath, while he sleeps.

Nor thought that time's succeeding lapse

Should see it grace a lovelier maid. Look, dearest, what a sweet design!

The more we gaze, it charms the more ; Come – closer bring that cheek to mine,

And trace with me its beauties o'er. Thou seest, it is a simple youth

By some enamour'd nymph embrac'd Look, as she leans, and say in sooth,

Is not that hand most fondly plac'd ? Upon his curled head behind

It seems in careless play to lie, Yet presses gently, half inclin'd

To bring the truant's lip more nigh. Oh happy maid ! too happy boy!

The one so fond and little loath, The other yielding slow to joy

Oh rare, indeed, but blissful both.

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The broad banana's green embrace Hung shadowy round each tranquil grace ; One little beam alone could win The leaves to let it wander in, And, stealing over all her charms, From lip to cheek, from neck to arms. New lustre to each beauty lent, — Itself all trembling as it went !

Dark lay her eyelid's jetty fringe Upon that cheek whose roseate tinge Mix'd with its shade, like evening's light Just touching on the verge of night. Her eyes, though thus in slumber hid, Seem'd glowing through the ivory lid, And, as I thought, a lustre threw Upon her lip's reflecting dew,Such as a night-lamp, left to shine Alone on some secluded shrine, May shed upon the votive wreath, Which pious hands have hung beneath.

Imagine, love, that I am he,

And just as warm as he is chilling ; Imagine, too, that thou art she,

But quite as coy as she is willing : So may we try the graceful way

In which their gentle arms are twin'd, And thus, like her, my hand I lay

Upon thy wreathed locks behind: And thus I feel thee breathing sweet,

As slow to mine thy head I move ; And thus our lips together meet,

And thus,- and thus, - I kiss thee, love.

Was ever vision half so sweet! Think, think how quick my heart-pulse beat, As o'er the rustling bank I stole ;Oh! ye, that know the lover's soul, It is for you alone to guess, That moment's trembling happiness.

λιβανοτω εικασιν, ότι απολλυμινον ευφραίνει.

ARISTOT, Rhetor. lib. iii. cap. 4.

A STUDY FROM THE ANTIQUE.

BEHOLD, my love, the curious gem

Within this simple ring of gold ; 'Tis hallow'd by the touch of them

Who liv'd in classic hours of old. Some fair Athenian girl, perhaps,

Upon her hand this gem display'd,

THERE's not a look, a word of thine,

My soul hath e'er forgot ; Thou ne'er hast bid a ringlet shine, Nor giv'n thy locks one graceful twine

Which I remember not. There never yet a murmur fell

From that beguiling tongue, Which did not, with a ling'ring spell, Upon my charmed senses dwell,

Like songs from Eden sung.

Somewhat like the symplegma of Cupid and Psyche attinum, tom. ii. tab. 43, 44. There are few subjects on which Florence, in which the position of Psyche's hand is finely and poetry could be more interestingly employed than in illustratdelicately expressive of affection. See the Museum Floren- ing some of these ancient statues and gems.

Ah ! that I could, at once, forget

Oh! say, is it thus, in the mirth-bringing hour, All, all that haunts me so —

When friends are assembled, when wit, in full And yet, thou witching girl, - and yet,

flower, To die were sweeter than to let

Shoots forth from the lip, under Bacchus's dew,
The lov'd remembrance go.

In blossoms of thought ever springing and new

Do you sometimes remember, and hallow the brim No; if this slighted heart must see

Of your cup with a sigh, as you crown it to him Its faithful pulse decay,

Who is lonely and sad in these valleys so fair, Oh let it die, rememb’ring thee,

And would pine in elysium, if friends were not And, like the burnt aroma, be

there! Consum'd in sweets away.

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,
JOSEPH ATKINSON, ESQ.

The friends who were dear and beloved before,
FROM BERMUDA, 1

But never till now so beloved and dear,

At the call of my fancy, surrounded me here; “ Tue daylight is gone-but, before we depart, And soon, -oh, at once, did the light of their smiles “ One cup shall go round to the friend of my heart, To a paradise brighten this region of isles ; “ The kindest, the dearest-oh! judge by the tear More lucid the wave, as they look'd on it, flow'd, “ I now shed while I name him, how kind and how And brighter the rose, as they gather'd it, glow'd. dear."

Not the valleys Heræan (though water'd by rills

Of the pearliest flow, from those pastoral hills, 'Twas thus in the shade of the Calabash-Tree, Where the Song of the Shepherd, primeval and wild, With a few, who could feel and remember like me, was taught to the nymphs by their mystical child,) The charm that, to sweeten my goblet, I threw Could boast such a lustre o'er land and o'er wave Was a sigh to the past and a blessing on you. As the magic of love to this paradise gave.

TO

Pinkerton has said that “a good history and description blishment of a marine academy for the instruction of those of the Bermudas might afford a pleasing addition to the geo- children of West Indians, who might be intended for any graphical library;" but there certainly are not materials for nautical employment. This was a more rational idea, and for such a work. The island, since the time of its discovery, has something of this nature the island is admirably calculated. experienced so very few vicissitudes, the people have been so But the plan should be much more extensive, and embrace a indolent, and their trade so limited, that there is but little general system of education ; which would relieve the colonists which the historian could amplify into importance; and, with from the alternative to which they are reduced at present, respect to the natural productions of the country, the few of either sending their sons to England for instruction, or inwhich the inhabitants can be induced to cultivate are so trusting them to colleges in the states of America, where common in the West Indies, that they have been described ideas, by no means favourable to Great Britain, are very sedaby every naturalist who has written any account of those lously inculcated. islands.

The women of Bermuda, though not generally handsome, It is often asserted by the trans-Atlantic politicians that this have an affectionate languor in their look and manner, which little colony deserves more attention from the mother-country is always interesting. What the French imply by their than it receives, and it certainly possesses advantages of epithet aimante seems very much the character of the young situation, to which we should not be long insensible, if it were Bermudian girls -- that predisposition to loving, which, with. once in the hands of an enemy. I was told by a celebrated out being awakened by any particular object, diffuses itself friend of Washington, at New York, that they had formed a through the general manner in a tone of tenderness that never plan for its capture towards the conclusion of the American fails to fascinate. The men of the island, I confess, are not War; “ with the intention (as he expressed himself) of making very civilised; and the old philosopher, who imagined that, it a nest of hornets for the annoyance of British trade in that after this life, men would be changed into mules, and women part of the world." And there is no doubt it lies so con- into turtle-doves, would find the metamorphosis in some de' veniently in the track to the West Indies, that an enemy might gree anticipated at Bermuda. with ease convert it into a very harassing impediment.

Mountains of Sicily, upon which Daphnis, the first inThe plan of Bishop Berkeley for a college at Bermuda, where ventor of bucolic poetry, was nursed by the nymphs. See the American savages might be converted and educated, though lively description of these mountains in Diodorus Siculus, concurred in by the government of the day, was a wild and lib. iv. "Ηραια γας ορη κατα την Σικελιαν εστιν, ά φασι καλλιέ, useless speculation. Mr. Hamilton, who was governor of the island some years since, proposed, if I mistake not, the esta

2. T. 2.

And while remembrance springs to her,
I watch the sails and sighing say,

Thus, my boy! thus.

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 see the wind draws kindly aft,

All hands are up the yards to square,
And now the floating stu'n-sails waft

Our stately ship through waves and air.
Oh! then I think that yet for me

Some breeze of fortune thus may spring, Some breeze to waft me, love, to theeAnd in that hope I smiling sing,

Steady, boy ! so.

1

TO

But look, where, all ready, in sailing array,
The bark that's to carry these pages away,
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 FIRE-FLY. 3

At morning, when the earth and sky

Are glowing with the light of spring, We see thee not, thou humble fly!

Nor think upon thy gleaming wing.

But when the skies have lost their hue,

And sunny lights no longer play,
Oh then we see and bless thee too

For sparkling o'er the dreary way.

THE

STEERSMAN'S SONG,
WRITTEN ABOARD THE BOSTON FRIGATE 28TH APRIL. 2

Thus let me hope, when lost to me

The lights that now my life illume,
Some milder joys may come, like thee,

To cheer, if not to warm, the gloom !

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.

TO

THE LORD VISCOUNT FORBES.

FROM THE CITY OF WASHINGTON.

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,

IF former times had never left a trace
Of human frailty in their onward race,
Nor o'er their pathway written, as they ran,
One dark memorial of the crimes of man ;
If every age, in new unconscious prime,
Rose like a phenix, from the fires of time,

1 A ship, ready to sail for England.

3 The lively and varying illumination, with which these 1 I left Bermuda in the Boston about the middle of April, fire-flies light up the woods at night, gives quite an idea of in company with the Cambrian and Leander, aboard the latter enchantment. “ Puis ces mouches se développant de l'obscuof which was the Admiral, Sir Andrew Mitchell, who divides rité de ces arbres et s'approchant de nous, nous les voyions his year between Halifax and Bermuda, and is the very soul sur les orangers voisins, qu'ils mettoient tout en feu, nous of society and good-fellowship to both. We separated in a rendant la vue de leurs beaux fruits dorés que la nuit avoit few days, and the Boston, after a short cruise, proceeded to ravie,” &c. &c. - See L'Histoire des Antilles, art. 2. chap. 4. New York.

liv. i.

To wing its way unguided and alone,

“ No longer here shall justice bound her view, The future smiling and the past unknown; “ Or wrong the many, while she rights the few ; Then ardent man would to himself be new, “ But take her range through all the social frame, Earth at his foot and heaven within his view : “ Pure and pervading as that vital flame Well might the novice hope, the sanguine scheme “ Which warms at once our best and meanest part, Of full perfection prompt his daring dream, “ And thrills a hair while it expands a heart !" Ere cold experience, with her veteran lore, Could tell him, fools had dreamt as much before.

Oh golden dream ! what soul that loves to scan But, tracing as we do, through age and clime,

The bright disk rather than the dark of man, The plans of virtue midst the deeds of crime,

That owns the good, while smarting with the ill, The thinking follies and the reasoning rage

And loves the world with all its frailty still, — Of man, at once the idiot and the sage ;

What ardent bosom does not spring to meet When still we see, through every varying frame

The generous hope, with all that heavenly heat, Of arts and polity, his course the same,

Which makes the soul unwilling to resign And know that ancient fools but died, to make

The thoughts of growing, even on earth, divine ! A space on earth for modern fools to take ;

Yes, dearest friend, I see thee glow to think 'Tis strange, how quickly we the past forget ;

The chain of ages yet may boast a link That Wisdom's self should not be tutor'd yet,

Of purer texture than the world has known, Nor tire of watching for the monstrous birth

And fit to bind us to a Godhead's throne. Of pure perfection midst the sons of earth!

But, is it thus ? doth even the glorious dream

Borrow from truth that dim, uncertain gleam, Oh! nothing but that soul which God has given, which tempts us still to give such fancies scope, Could lead us thus to look on earth for heaven;

As shock not reason, while they nourish hope ? O'er dross without to shed the light within,

No, no, believe me, 'tis not so ev'n now, And dream of virtue while we see but sin.

While yet upon Columbia's rising brow Even here, beside the proud Potowmac's stream, Her bloom is poison'd and her heart decays.

The showy smile of young presumption plays, Might sages still pursue the flatt'ring theme

Even now, in dawn of life, her sickly breath Of days to come, when man shall conquer fate,

Burns with the taint of empires near their death ; Rise o'er the level of his mortal state,

And, like the nymphs of her own with’ring clime, Belie the monuments of frailty past,

She's old in youth, she's blasted in her prime. And plant perfection in this world at last ! “Here,” might they say, “shall power's divided

Already has the child of Gallia's school reign

The foul Philosophy that sins by rule, “Evince that patriots have not bled in vain.

With all her train of reasoning, damning arts, “ Here godlike liberty's herculean youth,

Begot by brilliant heads on worthless hearts, “ Cradled in peace, and nurtur'd up by truth

Like things that quicken after Nilus' flood, “ To full maturity of nerve and mind,

The venom'd birth of sunshine and of mud, • Shall crush the giants that bestride mankind. '

Already has she pour'd her poison here “ Here shall religion's pure and balmy draught

O’er every charm that makes existence dear ; “ In form no more from cups of state be quaff'd,

Already blighted, with her black’ning trace, “ But flow for all, through nation, rank, and sect, The op’ning bloom of every social grace, “ Free as that heaven its tranquil waves reflect. And all those courtesies, that love to shoot “ Around the columns of the public shrine

Round virtue's stem, the flow'rets of her fruit. “ Shall growing arts their gradual wreath intwine, “ Nor breathe corruption from the flow'ring braid, And were these errors but the wanton tide

Nor mine that fabric which they bloom to shade. Of young luxuriance or unchasten'd pride ;

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1 Thus Morse. “Here the sciences and the arts of civi. French minister at Philadelphia, in that famous despatch to lised life are to receive their highest improvements : here his government, which was intercepted by one of our cruisers civil and religious liberty are to flourish, unchecked by the in the year 1794. This curious memorial may be found in cruel hand of civil or ecclesiastical tyranny: here genius, Porcupine's Works, vol. i. p. 279. It remains a striking aided by all the improvements of former ages, is to be exerted monument of republican intrigue, on one side and republican in humanising mankind, in expanding and enriching their profligacy on the other; and I would recommend the perusal minds with religious and philosophical knowledge," &c. &c of it to every honest politician, who may labour under a mo-- P. 569.

ment's delusion with respect to the purity of American 2 " What will be the old age of this government, if it 18 patriotism. thus early decrepit !” Such was the remark of Fauchet, the

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.

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.

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 pobler 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.?

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 namid,
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 free-
Alike the bondage and the licence suit,
The brute made ruler and the man made brute.

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, 2
Who could their monarch in their purse forget,
And break allegiance, but to cancel debt, s
Hare prov'd at length, the mineral's tempting

hue,
Which makes a patriot, can unmake him too.4
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,

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,

1 - Nous voyons que, dans les pays où l'on n'est affecté in 1794. In short, see Porcupine's works throughout, for que de l'esprit de commerce, on trafique de toutes les actions ample corroboration of every sentiment which I have ventured bumaines et de toutes les vertus morales." - Montesquieu, to express. In saying this, I refer less to the comments of der Esprit des Lois, liv. xx. chap. 2.

that writer than to the occurrences which he has related and ? I trust I shall not be suspected of a wish to justify those the documents which he has preserved. Opinion may be arbitrary steps of the English government which the colonies suspected of bias, but facts speak for themselves. found it so necessary to resist ; my only object here is to ex- 5 In Virginia the effects of this system begin to be felt pose the selfish motive of some of the leading American rather seriously. While the master raves of liberty, the slave demagogues.

cannot but catch the contagion, and accordingly there seldom The most persevering enemy to the interests of this elapses a month without some alarm of insurrection amongst country, amongst the politicians of the western world, has the negroes. The accession of Louisiana, it is feared, will been a Virginian merchant, who, finding it easier to settle his increase this embarrassment ; as the numerous emigrations, conscience than his debts, was one of the first to raise the which are expected to take place, from the southern states to standard against Great Britain, and has ever since endea- this newly acquired territory, will considerably diminish the Foured to revenge upon the whole country the obligations white population, and thus strengthen the proportion of newhich he lies under to a few of its merchants.

groes, to a degree which must ultimately be ruinous. • See Porcupine's account of the Pennsylvania Insurrection

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