He glitter'd to the western ray,
Like sleet-bound trees in wintry skies,
Or Lapland idol carved in ice.

And now the feather'd bag display'd
Is waved in triumph o'er his head,
And clouds him o'er with feathers missive,
And down, upon the tar, adhesive:
Not Maia's son, with wings for ears,
Such plumage round his visage wears;
Nor Milton's six-wing'd angel gathers
Such superfluity of feathers.

Now all complete appears our 'Squire,
Like Gorgon or Chimera dire;
Nor more could boast on Plato's plan
To rank among the race of man,
Or prove his claim to human nature,
As a two-legg'd, unfeather'd creature.
Then on the fatal cart, in state
They raised our grand Duumvirate,
And as at Rome a like committee,
Who found an owl within their city,
With solemn rites and grave processions
At every shrine perform'd lustrations;
And lest infection might take place
From such grim fowl with feather'd face,
All Rome attends him through the street
In trumph to his country seat:

With like devotion all the choir
Paraded round our awful 'Squire ;
In front the martial music comes
Of horns and fiddles, fifes and drums,
With jingling sound of carriage bells,
And treble creak of rusted wheels.
Behind, the crowd, in lengthen'd row
With proud procession closed the show.
And at fit periods every throat
Combined in universal shout;
And hail'd great liberty in chorus,
Or bawl'd confusion to the tories.'
Not louder storm the welkin braves
From clamors of conflicting waves;
Less dire in Lybian wilds the noise
When ravening lions lift their voice;
Or triumphs at town-meetings made,
On passing votes to regulate trade.

Thus having borne them round the town, Last at the pole they set them down ;

And to the tavern take their way
To end in mirth the festal day.

And now the mob, dispersed and gone,
Left 'Squire and constable alone.
The constable with rueful face

Lean'd sad and solemn o'er a brace;
And fast beside him, cheek by jowl,
Stuck 'Squire M'Fingal 'gainst the pole,
Glued by the tar t' his rear applied,
Like barnacle on vessel's side.
But though his body lack'd physician,
His spirit was in worse condition.
He found his fears of whips and ropes
By many a drachm outweigh'd his hopes.
As men in jail without mainprize
View everything with other eyes,
And all goes wrong in church and state,
Seen through perspective of the grate :
So now M'Fingal's second-sight
Beheld all things in gloomier light;
His visual nerve, well purged with tar,
Saw all the coming scenes of war.
As his prophetic soul grew stronger,
He found he could hold in no longer.
First from the pole, as fierce he shook,
His wig from pitchy durance broke,
His mouth unglued, his feathers flutter'd,
His tarr'd skirts crack'd, and thus he utter'd.
"Ah, Mr Constable, in vain

We strive 'gainst wind, and tide, and rain,
Behold my doom! this feathery omen
Portends what dismal times are coming.
Now future scenes, before my eyes,
And second-sighted forms arise.
I hear a voice, that calls away,
And cries, 'the whigs will win the day.'
My beck'ning genius gives command,
And bids me fly the fatal land;

Where changing name and constitution,
Rebellion turns to revolution,
While loyalty, oppress'd, in tears,
Stands trembling for its neck and ears.

"Go, summon all our brethren, greeting,

To muster at our usual meeting;
There my prophetic voice shall warn 'em
Of all things future that concern 'em,
And scenes disclose on which, my friend,
17*

VOL. I.

Their conduct and their lives depend.
There I-but first 't is more of use,
From this vile pole to set me loose;
Then go, with cautious steps and steady,
While I steer home and make all ready.

JONATHAN MITCHEL SEWALL

Was born at Salem, Massachusetts, in 1748. He lost his parents at an early age, and was adopted by his uncle, Stephen Sewall, Chief Justice of the Supreme Court of Massachusetts. He studied at Harvard College, and afterwards entered into mercantile business, which he finally abandoned for the profession of the law, and settled in Portsmouth New Hampshire, where he passed the remainder of his life, with a high character for integrity and disinterestedness. He died March 29th, 1808, in his sixtieth year.

Mr Sewall applied himself to poetry in his youth, and many of his pieces were made public previous to the revolution. Ossian charmed his juvenile fancy to such a degree, that he versified nearly the whole work. Specimens of this performance, with other miscellaneous pieces, were published in a volume in 1801. It was his custom, when confined to his bed by long indisposition, to beguile the wearisomeness of his sleepless nights, by the composition of verses, which, when he had sufficiently recovered to handle a pen, he committed to writing.

The piece best entitled to our regard among his productions, is the ode of War and Washington, a patriotic Tyrtean strain, which was sung throughout the country during the revolutionary war, and served to inspire zeal and courage in the cause of independence. No national lyric ever aroused more enthusiasm, or was chanted with better effect than this war song of the American revolution. It was the favorite strain throughout the ranks of the army in every part of the country,

and kindled the martial ardor and patriotic feelings of all. Such relics are the most precious and interesting which can be gathered from the literature of the times.

WAR AND WASHINGTON.

VAIN Britons, boast no longer with proud indignity,

By land your conquering legions, your matchless strength at sea,

Since we, your braver sons, incensed, our swords have girded

on,

Huzza, huzza, huzza, huzza, for war and Washington!

Urged on by North and vengeance, those valiant champions

came,

Loud bellowing Tea and Treason, and George was all on flame,

Yet sacrilegious as it seems, we rebels still live on,

And laugh at all their empty puffs,-huzza for Washington!

Still deaf to mild entreaties, still blind to England's good,
You have for thirty pieces betray'd your country's blood.
Like Esop's greedy cur you'll gain a shadow for your bone,
Yet find us fearful shades indeed, inspired by Washington.

Mysterious! unexampled! incomprehensible !

The blundering schemes of Britain, their folly, pride, and zeal. Like lions how ye growl and threat! mere asses have you shown,

And ye shall share an ass's fate, and drudge for Washington!

Your dark, unfathom'd counsels our weakest heads defeat, Our children rout your armies, our boats destroy your fleet, And to complete the dire disgrace, coop'd up within a town, You live, the scorn of all our host, the slaves of Washington!

Great heaven! is this the nation whose thundering arms were

hurl'd,

Through Europe, Afric, India? whose navy ruled a world? The lustre of your former deeds, whole ages of renown, Lost in a moment, or transferred to us and Washington!

Yet think not thirst of glory unsheaths our vengeful swords, To rend your bands asunder, and cast away your cords. "T is heaven-born freedom fires us all, and strengthens each brave son,

From him who humbly guides the plough, to godlike Washington.

For this, Oh could our wishes your ancient rage inspire, Your armies should be doubled, in numbers, force, and fire. Then might the glorious conflict prove which best deserved the boon,

America, or Albion; a George, or Washington!

Fired with the great idea, our fathers' shades would rise; To view the stern contention, the gods desert their skies. And Wolfe; 'mid hosts of heroes, superior bending down, Cry out with eager transport, God save great Washington!

Should George, too choice of Britons, to foreign realms apply,

And madly arm half Europe, yet still we would defy
Turk, Hessian, Jew, and Infidel, or all those powers in one,
While Adams guides our senate, our camp great Washington!

Should warlike weapons fail us, disdaining slavish fears,
To swords we 'll beat our ploughshares, our pruninghooks to

spears,

And rush, all desperate! on our foe, nor breathe till battle

won;

Then shout, and shout America! and conquering Washington!

Proud France should view with terror, and haughty Spain

revere,

While every warlike nation would court alliance here. And George, his minions trembling round, dismounting from his throne,

Pay homage to America, and glorious Washington!