With new born green, reviving nature blooms,
And sweeter fragrance freshening air perfumes.
Far south the storm withdrew its troubled reign;
Descending twilight dimm'd the dusky plain;
Black night arose; her curtains hid the ground:
Less roar'd, and less, the thunder's solemn sound;
The bended lightning shot a brighter stream,
Or wrapp'd all heaven in one wide, mantling flame;
By turns, o'er plains, and woods, and mountains, spread
Faint, yellow glimmerings, and a deeper shade.
From parting clouds, the moon outbreaking shone,
And sate, sole empress, on her silver throne;
In clear, full beauty, round all nature smiled,
And claim'd o'er heaven and earth, dominion mild;
With humbler glory, stars her court attend,
And bless'd, and union'd, silent lustre blend.

PROCESSION OF ISRAELITISH VIRGINS TO MEET THE RE

TURNING ARMY.

THE sun declined; besmear'd with dust and blood,

Slow o'er the plain the wearied squadrons trod;
When fair as Phosphor leads the morning train,
Dress'd in new beams, and beauteous from the main ;
Crown'd with white flowers, that breath'd a rich perfume,
And clothed in loveliness'of gayest bloom,
Rose in soft splendor Caleb's youngest pride,
A thousand maidens following at her side.
In snow white robes of flowing silk array'd,
First of the virgins walk'd the blushing maid;
Her long, dark hair loose floated in the wind;
Her glowing eyes confess'd the etherial mind;
A wreath of olive flourish'd in her hand;
A silver lyre obey'd her soft command;

With sounds harmonious rang the warbled strings,
And thus the maids, and thus Selima sings.
"Who comes from Ai, adorn'd with gay attire,
Bright as the splendor of the morning fire?
Fair as the spring, ascends the lovely form,
And dreadful as the blaze that lights the storm!
Ye maids, with flowerets strew the conqueror's way,
Strike the loud harp, and sing the dreadful day!
To Irad's steps the matchless fair one came,
Her breast quick panting, and her cheeks on flame;

Her beauteous hand the verdant crown display'd;
Graceful he bow'd, and placed it on his head.
Slow to her train the trembling fair withdrew,
The charm'd youths following with a moveless view.
So, wing'd with light, and dress'd in strange array,
The mantling glory of the rising day,

With sweet complacence, such as angels show
To souls unprison'd from this world of woe,
Parted soft smiling from our general sire
Some bright-eyed virtue, of the heavenly choir,
Far in the solar walk, with wondrous flight,
The form celestial lessen'd on his sight.

LAMENTATION OF SELIMA FOR THE DEATH OF IRAD.

CANST thou forget, when, call'd from southern bowers,
Love tuned the groves, and spring awaked the flowers,
How, loosed from slumbers by the morning ray,
O'er balmy plains we bent our frequent way?
On thy fond arm, with pleasing gaze, I hung,
And heard sweet music murmur o'er thy tongue;
Hand lock'd in hand, with gentle ardor press'd,
Pour'd soft emotions through the heaving breast,
In magic transport heart with heart entwined,
And in sweet languors lost the melting mind.

'Twas then, thy voice, attuned to wisdom's lay,
Show'd fairer worlds, and traced the immortal way;
In virtue's pleasing paths my footsteps tried,
My sweet companion, and my skilful guide;
Through varied knowledge taught my mind to soar,
Search hidden truths, and new-found walks explore:
While still the tale, by nature learn'd to rove,
Slid, unperceived, to scenes of happy love.
Till weak, and lost, the faltering converse fell,
And eyes disclosed what eyes alone could tell;
In rapturous tumult bade the passions roll,
And spoke the living language of the soul.

With what fond hope, through many a blissful hour,
We gave the soul to fancy's pleasing power;
Lost in the magic of that sweet employ
To build gay scenes, and fashion future joy!
We saw mild peace o'er fair Canaan rise,
And shower her pleasures from benignant skies.
On airy hills our happy mansion rose,
Built but for joy, nor room reserved for woes.

VOL. I.

22*

Round the calm solitude, with ceaseless song,
Soft roll'd domestic ecstacy along:

Sweet as the sleep of innocence, the day,
By raptures number'd, lightly danced away:
To love, to bliss, the union'd soul was given,
And each, too happy! ask'd no brighter heaven.
Yet then, even then, my trembling thoughts would rove,
And steal an hour from Irad, and from love,
Through dread futurity all anxious roam,
And cast a mournful glance on ills to come.
"Hope not, fond maid," some voice prophetic cried—
"A life, thus wafted down the unruffled tide:
Trust no gay, golden doom, from anguish free,
Nor wish the laws of heaven reversed for thee.
Survey the peopled world; thy soul shall find
Woes, ceaseless woes, ordain'd for poor mankind.
Life's a long solitude, an unknown gloom,
Closed by the silence of the dreary tomb.

"For soon, ah soon shall fleet thy pleasing dreams; Soon close the eye, that, bright as angel's, beams Grace irresistible. To mouldering clay

Shall change the face, that smiles thy griefs away:
Soon the sweet music of that voice be o'er,
Hope cease to charm, and beauty bloom no more:
Strange, darksome wilds, and devious ways be trod,
Nor love, nor Irad, steal thy heart from God."

And must the hours in ceaseless anguish roll?
Must no soft sunshine cheer my clouded soul?
Spring charm around me brightest scenes, in vain?
And youth's angelic visions wake to pain?

Oh come once more, with fond endearments come;
Burst the cold prison of the sullen tomb;
Through favorite walks, thy chosen maid attend;
Where well known shades for thee their branches bend:
Shed the sweet poison from thy speaking eye;
And look those raptures, lifeless words deny!
Still be the tale rehearsed, that ne'er could tire;
But, told each eve, fresh pleasure could inspire :
Still hoped those scenes, which love and fancy drew;
But, drawn a thousand times, were ever new!

Again all bright shall glow the morning beam;
Again soft suns dissolve the frozen stream:
Spring call young breezes from the southern skies,
And, clothed in splendor, flowery millions rise.
In vain to thee-no morn's indulgent ray
Warms the cold mansion of the slumbering clay.

No mild etherial gale, with tepid wing,
Shall fan thy locks, or waft approaching spring:
Unfelt, unknown, shall breathe the rich perfume,
And unheard music wave around thy tomb.

A cold, dumb, dead repose invests thee round;
Still as a void, ere nature form'd a sound.
O'er thy dark region, pierced by no kind ray,
Slow roll the long, oblivious hours away.
In these wild walks, this solitary round,

Where the pale moon-beam lights the glimmering ground,

At each sad turn, I view thy spirit come,

And glide, half seen, behind a neighboring tomb;

With visionary hand, forbid my stay,

Look o'er the grave, and beckon me away.

DAVID HUMPHREYS.

DAVID HUMPHREYS was the son of a clergyman, of Derby in Connecticut, and was born at that place in 1753. He entered Yale College in 1767, where he formed an acquaintance with Dwight and Trumbull. He went into the army on the breaking out of the war, and in 1778 was attached to General Putnam's staff, with the rank of Major. In 1780 he was made a Colonel, and aide-de-camp to Washington, in whose family he continued till the end of the war, enjoying the full confidence and friendship of the Commander in Chief. When the army was disbanded, and Washington had resigned his commission, Colonel Humphreys accompanied him in his retirement to Virginia.

In 1784 he was appointed Secretary to the legation for concluding treaties with foreign powers, and sailed for Europe where he passed two years, principally at Paris and London. On his return in 1786, he was chosen to represent his native town in the Connecticut legislature, and shortly after appointed by Congress to the command of a body of troops raised in New England, for the western service. While occupied in this business he resided for the most part at Hartford, and associated with Trumbull, Barlow and Hopkins in the

literary and political writings which engaged their attention at that period. In 1788 his corps being broken up, his commission expired, and he made a journey to General Washington at Mount Vernon, and remained there till the organization of the federal government, when he attended the President to New York. He remained in his family till 1790. At this time he was nominated ambassador to Portugal, and in 1791 sailed for Lisbon, being the first American minister to that country. He subsequently received the additional appointment of minister plenipotentiary to the court of Madrid, and during the discharge of these duties, concluded treaties of peace with the government of Tripoli and Algiers. He remained abroad till 1802, and after his return lived principally in his native state, without taking any share in public measures except receiving the command of the veteran volunteers of Connecticut in 1812, with the rank of General. He died at New Haven, February 21st, 1818, at the age of 65.

Colonel Humphreys attracted much notice by his first poem, "An Address to the Armies of the United States of America," written in 1782, in the bustle of the camp, for the patriotic purpose of inspiring his brethren in arms with courage and perseverance in the struggle. This piece had a great popularity. It was published in England, and translated into French by the Marquis de Chastellux, the friend and fellow soldier of Humphreys. His other works are, A Poem on the Happiness of America, A Poem on the future Glory of the United States, A Poem on the Industry of the United States, A Poem on the Love of Country, A Poem on the death of Washington, and a few small pieces. Besides these, he was the Author of a life of General Putnam, and a translation of the French tragedy, The Widow of Malabar.

The poetry of Humphreys displays considerable talent, but the sameness in the character of the subjects which he has adopted throughout his different pieces, gives it an air of monotony which materially detracts from the interest we feel in going over his volume. Either of his larger performances, will give a fair specimen of his general manner and merits.