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And Time, who bids thy flame expire,

Will also quench yon heaven of suns!»

Till o'er her cheek she thrilling feel My sighs of fire in murmurs steal, And I shall lift the locks that flow Unbraided o'er her lids of snow, And softly kiss those sealed

eyes, And wake her into sweet surprise!

Oh then, if earth's united power
Can never chain one feathery hour;

every print we leave to-day
To-morrow's wave shall steal away;

pauses to enquire of Heaven Why were the fleeting treasures given, The

sunny days, the shady nights, And all their brief but dear delights, Which Heaven has made for man to use, And man should think it quilt to lose ? Who that has culld a weeping rose Will ask it why breathes and glows, Unmindful of the blushing ray, In which it shines its soul away; Unmindful of the scented sigh On which it dies and loves to die?

Or if she dream, oli! let her dream

Of those delights we both have known, And felt so truly, that they seem

Form'd to be felt by us alone!
And I shall mark her kindling cheek,

Shall see her bosom warmly move,
And hear her faintly, lowly speak

The murmur'd sounds so dear to love!

Oh! I shall gaze till even the sigh
That wafts her very sonl be nigh,
And, when the nymph is all but blest,
Sink in her arms and share the rest.!
Sweet Lais! what an age

of bliss In that one moment waits for me! Oh sages ! -- think on joy like this,

And where 's your boast of apathy?

Pleasure! thou only good on earth!'

One little hour resign d to theeOh! by my Lais' lip, 't is worth

The sage's immortality!

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And, soon as night shall close the eve

Of Heaven's young, wanderer in the west; When scers are gazing on the sky,

To find their future orbs of rest; Then shall I take my trembling way,

Unseen, but to those worlds above,
And, led by thy mysterious ray,

Glide to the pillow of
Calm be her sleep, the gentle dear!
Nor let her dream of bliss so near,

And sweetly did the


fill With fond device and loving, lore, And every leaf she turnd was still

More bright than that she turn'd before!

Beneath the touch of Hope, how soft,

How light the magic pencil ran! Till Fear would come, alas! as ofe,

And trembling close what Hope began.

A tear or two had dropp'd from Grief,

And Jealousy would, now and then, Ruffle in haste some snowy leaf,

Which Love had still to smooth again!

my love,

'AB18ippus considered motion as the principle of happiness, in which idea he differed from the Epicurrans, who looked to a state of repase as the only true voluptuousness, and avoided even the too lisely agitations of pleasure, as a siolent and ungraceful derangement of the senses.

: MAUPERTOTO has been still more explicit than this philospher. in ranking the pleasures of senso above the sublimest pursuits of isisdom. Speaking of the infant man, in his production, he calls bim, une nouvelle créature, qui pourra comprendre les choses les plus sublimes, et ce qui est bien au-dessus, qui pourra fouter les memes plaisirs.--Ser his venus Physique. This appears to be one of the efforts at Fontenelle's Gillantry of manner, for which the learned President is so well ridiculed in the Akadia of VOLIAIRE.

MAUTERTETA may be thought to bare borrowed from the ancient ABESTippt's that indiscriminate theory of pleasures which he has set forth in bus Essai de Philosophie Morale, and for ubich he was se very justly cond-mord.

AXINTITOS, according to L. ERTIES. buld un dia OEBEUV Te ndovny adorns, which irrational sentiment han been adeptoid by MerI$: «Tant qu'on ne considere que l'eu ! présent, tous les plaisirs sut du nième cente,»

But, oh! there was a blooming boy,

Who often turn'd the pages o'er, And wrote therein such words of joy,

As all who read still sich'd for more!

And Pleasure was this spirit's name,

And though so soft his voice and look, Yet lupocence, whene'er lie came,

Would tremble for her spotless book!

For still she saw his playful fingers

Where blest he wooes some black Aspasia's grace, Filld with sweets and wanton toys;

And dreams of freedom in his slave's embrace!" And well she knew the stain that lingers After sweets from wanton boys!

In fancy now beneath the twilight gloom,

Come, let me lead thee o'er this modern Rome! And so it chanced, one luckless night

Where tribunes rule, where dusky Davi bow,
He let his honey goblet fall

And what was Goose-Creek once is Tiber now!3— O'er the dear book so pure, so white,

This famed metropolis, where Fancy sees
And sullied lines, and marge and all!

Squares in morasses, obelisks in trees;

Which travelling fools and gazetteers adorn
In vain he sought, with eager lip,

With shrines unbuilt and heroes yet unborn,
The honey from the leaf to drink,

Though nought but wood 4 and******** they see, For still the more the boy would sip,

Where streets should run, and sages ought to be! The deeper still the blot would sink!

And look, how soft in yonder radiant wave,
Oh! it would make you weep, to see

The dying sun prepares his golden grave!
The traces of this honey flood

Oh great Potowmac! oh you banks of shade!
Steal o'er a page, where Modesty

You mighty scenes, in Nature's morning made,
Had freshly drawn a rose's bud!

While still, in rich magnificence of prime,

She pour'd ber wonders, lavishly sublime, And Fancy's emblems lost their glow,

Nor yet had learned to stoop, with humbler care, And Hope's sweet lines were all defaced, From grand to soft, from wonderful to fair! And Love himself could scarcely know

Say, were your towering hills, your boundless floods, What Love himself had lately traced !

Your rich savannas and majestic woods,

Wbere bards should meditate and heroes rove, At length the urchin Pleasure fled,

And woman charm and man deserve her love! (For how, alas! could Pleasure stay ?)

Oh! was a world so bright but born to grace
And Love, while many a tear he shed,

Its own half-organized, half-minded race 5
In blushes flung the book away!

Of weak barbarians, swarming o'er its breast,

Like vermin gender'd on the lion's crest?
The index now alone remains,
Of all the pages spoild by Pleasure,

* The • black Aspasia,, of the present ********* of the United

States, inter Averaales baud ignotissima nymphas,, has given rise And though it bears some honey stains,

to much pleasantry among the anti-democrat wits in America. Yet Memory counts the leaf a treasure!

?. On the original location of the ground now allotted for the

srat of the Federal City (says Mr. Walo), the identical spot on whiels And oft, they say, she scans it o'er,

the capitel now stands was called Rome. This anecdote is related by

many as a certain procarstic of the future magnificence of this city. And oft, by this memorial aided,

whieh is to be, as it were, a second Rome. - WELD'. Travels, letter is. Brings back the pages now no more,

A little stream runs through the city, which, with intolerable And thinks of lines that long have faded !

affectation, they have styled the Tiber. It was originally called

4. To be under the necrusity of going through a deep wood for I know not if this tale be true,

one or two miles, perhape, in order to see a next-door neighbour and But thus the simple facts are stated;

in the same city, is a curious, and I believe a novel, circumstance. And I refer their truth to you,

Wele, letter is.

The Federal City (if it must be called a city) has not been much Since Love and you are near related !

increased since Mr Weld visited it. Most of the public buildin wbich were then in some degree of forwardaese, have been since utterly suspended. The Hotel is already a ruin; a great part of its roof has fallen in, and the rooms are left to be occupied gratuitously

by the miserable Scotch and Trish emigrants. The President's hous", EPISTLE VII.

a very noble structure, is by no means suited to the philosophical

humility of its present possessor, who inhabits but a corner of the TO THOMAS HUME, ESQ. M. D.

mansion himself, and abandons the rest to a state of uneleanly desolation, which those who are not philosophers cannot look at without

regret. This grand edifee is encireled by a very rude pale, through FROM THE CITY OF WASHINGTON.

which a common rostic stile introduces the visitors of the first man in

With respect to all that is within the bouse, I shall imitate ΔΙΗΓΗΣΟΜΑΙ ΔΙΗΓΗΜΑΤΑ ΙΣΩΣ ΑΠΙΣΤΑ, the prudent forbearance of Herodotus, and say, τα δε εν απορρητο. ΚΟΙΝΩΝΑ ΩΝ ΠΕΠΟΝΘΑ ΟΥΚ ΕΧΩΝ. .

The private buildings exhibit the same characterietie display of arro

gant speculation and premature ruin, and the few ranges of houses XENOPHONT. Ephes. Ephesiac. lib. v. which were begun some years ago, have remained so long waste and

sofinished, that they are now for the most part dilapidated.

The picture which Berroxan Dr Pauw have drawn of the Ame'T is evening now; the beats and cares of day

rican Indian, though very humiliating, is, as far as I can judce, much In twilight dews are calmly wept away.

more correct than the flattering representations which Mr JETTERSON The lover now, beneath the western star,

has given as. See the Notes on Virginia, where this gentleman en

deavours to disprore in general the opinion maintained so strongly Sighs through the medium of his sweet segar,

by some philosophers, that nature (as Mr JETTERSON expresses it) beAnd fills the cars of some consenting she

littles ber productions in the western world. M. DE PAow attributes With puffs and vows, with smoke and constancy!

the imperfections of animal life in America to the ravages of a very The weary statesman for repose hath fled

recent deluge, from whose effects upon its soil and atmosphere it has

not yet sufficiently recovered. - See bis Recherches sur les Americains, From halls of council to his negro's shed,

part. i. tom. I. p. 103.



Were pone but brutes to call that soil their home, While I, as oft, in witching thought shall rove
Where none but demi-gods should dare to roam ? To thee, to friendship, and that land I love,
Or, worse, thou mighty world! oh! doubly worse, Where, like the air that fans her fields of green,
Did Heaven design thy lordly land to purse

Her freedom spreads, unfeverd and serene;
The motley dregs of every distant clime,

Where sovereign man can condescend to see
Each blast of anarchy and taint of crime

The throne and laws more sovereign still thau lie!
Which Europe shakes from her perturbed sphere,
In full malignity to rankle liere?
But hush!-observe that little mount of pines,
Where the breeze murmurs and the fire-fly shines,

There let thy fancy raise, in bold relief,

1801. The sculptured image of that veteran chief, Who lost the rebel's in the bero's name,

My love and I, the other day, And stepp'd o'er prostrate loyalty to fame;

Within a myrtle arbour lay, Beneath whose sword Columbia's patriot train

When near us from a rosy bed, Cast off their monarch, that their mob might reign!

A little snake put forth its head,

See,» said the maid, with laughing eyesHow shall we rank thee upon Glory's page?

« Yonder the fatal emblem lies! Thou more than soldier and just less than sage! Too form'd for peace to act a conqueror's part,

Who could expect such lidden harm

Beneath the rose's velvet charm?»
Too traind in camps to learn a statesman's art,'
Nature design'd thee for a hero's mould,

Never did moral thought occur
But, ere she cast thec, let the stuff


In more unlucky hour than this;

For oh! I just was leading her.
While warmer souls command, nay, make their fate,

To talk of love and think of bliss.
Thy fate made thee and forced thee to be great.
Yet Fortune, who so oft, so blindly sheds

I rose to kill the spake, but she
Her brightest halo round the weakest heads,

In pity pray'd, it might not be.
Found thee undazzled, tranquil as before,
Proud to be useful, scording to be more;

« No,» said the girl-and many a spark Less prompt at glory's than at duty's claim,

Flaslid from her eyelid, as she said ilRenown the meed, but self-applause the aim;

«I'nder the rose, or in the dark, All thou hast been reflects less fame on thee,

One might, perhaps, have cause to dread it; Far less, than all thou hast forborne to be!

But when its wicked cyes appear,

And when we know for what they wink so,
Now turn thine eye where faint the moonlight falls One must be very simple, dear,
On yonder dome-and in those princely halls,

To let it sting one-don't you think so?
Jf thou canst hate, as, oh! that soul must hate,
Which loves the virtuous and reveres the great,
If thou canst loathe and execrate with me
That Gallic garbage of philosophy,

That nanseous slaver of these frantic times,

With which false liberty dilutes her crimes!
If thou hast got, within thy free-born breast,

την δε την πολιν φιλως One pulse that beats more proudly than the rest,

Ειπαν επαξια γαρ. With honest scorn for that inglorious soul

Sophocl. OEdip. Colon. v.758. Which creeps and winds beneath a moli's control, Which courts the rabble's smile, the rabble's nod, And makes, like Egypt, every beast its god!

Alone by the Schuylkill a wanderer roved,

And bright were its flowery banks to his eye;
There, in those walls—but, burning tongue, forbear!
Rank must be reverenced, even the rank ibat's there :

But far, very far were the friends that he loved,
So here I pause--and now, my Ilume! we part;

And he gazed on its flowery banks with a sigh! But oli! full oft in magir dreams of heart,

Oh Nature! though blessed and bright are thy rays, Thus let is mert, and mingle converse dear

O'er the brow of creation enchantingly thrown, By Thames at home, or by Potowmac here!

Yet faint are they all to the lustre that plays O'er like and marsh, through fevers and through fogs,

In a smile from the heart that is dearly our own! Midst bears and vankees, democrats and frogs, Tliv foot shall follow me, thy heart anıl eyes

become indeed to generally the characteristic of their countrymen. Withine shall wonder, and with me despise!?

But there is another cause of the corruption of private morals, shes, Nor long did the soul of the stranger remain

encouraged as it is by the government, and identified with the sters * On a small hill near the capitol, there is to be an equestrian statue

of the community, seems to threaten the decar of all honest princik of General Washington.

in America I allude to those fraudulent violations of neutrality to 1 In the forment which the French rosolarinn escital imong the

which they are indebted for ibe most lucrative part of their commerce, democrats of America, and the licentius simpatbe with which they

and by which they bave so long infringed and counteracted the bar shared in ilewildest erresororfjarobimsm, we may find ne source of

time rights and advantages of this country. This unwarrantable irse that rulers of rice, that hendlies to all the fracre of life, which

is necessarily aloited by such assalem of collusion, imposture, asd distinguishes the present de mageurs of the Conted stules, and bas perjury, is cm laille spread nipid contamination aroand it

The bowl
Unblest by the smile he had languish'd to meet;

Sparkled with starry dew,
Though scarce did he hope it would soothe him again, The weeping of those myriad urns of light,
Till the threshold of home had been kiss'd by his feet! Within whose orbs, the almighty Power,

At Nature's dawning hour,
But the lays of his boyhood had stolen to their ear, Stored the rich fluid of ethereal soul!"
And they loved what they knew of so humble a name,

And they told him, with flattery welcome and dear, Soft odorous clouds, that upward wing their flight
That they found in his heart something sweeter than

From eastern isles fame!

(Where they have bathed them in the orient ray,

And with fine fragrance all their bosoms filla),
Nor did woman-oh woman! whose form and whose soul in circles flew, and, melting as they flew,
Are the spell and the light of each path we pursue;

A liquid day-break o'er the board distilld!
Whether sunn'd in the tropics or chill'd at the pole,

All, all was luxury! If woman be there, there is happiness too!

All must be luxury, where Lyaus smiles' Nor did she her enamouring magic deny,

His locks divine That magic his heart had relinquish'd so long,

Were crown'd
Like eyes he had loved was her eloquent eye,

With a bright meteor-braid,
Like them did it soften and weep at his song. Which, like an ever-springing wreath of vine,

Shot into brilliant leafy shapes,
Oh! blest be the tear, and in memory oft

And o'er his brow in lambent tendrils play'd!
May its sparkle be shed o'er his wandering dream! While 'mid the foliage hung,
Oh! blest be that eye, and may passion as soft,

Like lucid grapes,
As free from a pang, ever mellow its beam! A thousand clustering blooms of light,

Culld from the gardens of the galaxy!
The stranger is gone-but he will not forget,

l'pon his bosom Cytherea's head
When at home he shall talk of the toil he has known, Lay lovely, as when first the Syrens sung
To tell, with a sigh, what endearments he met,

Her beauty's dawn,
As he stray'd by the wave of the Schuylkill alone! And all the curtains of the deep, undrawn,

Reveal'd her sleeping in its azure bed.

The captive deity

Languish'd upon her eyes and lip,

In chains of ecstacy!

Now in his arm,
'T was on a day

Jo blushes she reposed, When the immortals at their banquet lay;

And, while her zone resign'd its every charm,

To shade his burning eyes her hand in dalliance stole, • Though I call this a Dithyrambic Ode, I cannot presume to say And now she raised her rosy mouth to sip that it possesses, in any degree, the characteristics of that species of

The nectar'd wave portry. The nature of the ancient Dithyrambic is very imperfectly

Lyæus gave, koosn. According to M. Benette, a licentious irregularity of metre, an extravagant restarih of thought and expression, and a rude em- And from ber eyelids, gently closed, barrassed construction, are among its most distinguishing features, Shed a dissolving gleam, He adds, . Ces caractères des detyrambes se font sentir à ceux qui Which fell, like sun-dew, in the bowl! Inent attentivement les Odes de Pindare..-Mémoires de l'Acad.

While her bright hair, in mazy flow vol. 1, p. 396. And the same opinion may be collected from Scenior's Dissertation upon the subject. But I think, if the Dithyrambics of

Of gold descending Piodar were in our possession, we should find that, however wild and Along her cheek's luxurious glow, fapeiful, they were by no means the tasteless jargon they are repre- Waved o'er the goblet's side, seated, and that even their irregularity was what BOILExt calls « un

And was reflected by its crystal tide berg désordre.. Chines, who has been styled the Pindar of Italy, and from whom all its poetry upon the Greek model was called Chia

Like a sweet crocus flower, breresco (as CRESCI RESI informs us, lib. i. cap. 12), has given, Whose sunny leaves, at evening hour, amongst bis Vendemmie, a Dithyrambie, « all'uso de' Grecis, it is

With roses of Cyrene blending," full of these compound epithets which, we are told, were a chief character of the style (συνθετους δε λεξεις εποιουν. SuiD.

Hang o'er the mirror of a silver stream!
Aifupaulodid.), such as

The Olympian cup
Brigliadorato Pegaso

Burn'd in the hands Bat I cannot suppose that Pindar, eren amidst all the license of dr- "This is a Platonic faney; the philosopher supposes, in his Timaus i byrambics, would ever bave descended to ballad-language like the that, when the Deity had formed the soul of the world, he proceeded following:

to the composition of other souls: in which process, says Plato, he Bella Filli, e bella Clori

made use of the same eup, though the ingredients be mingled were Non piu dar pregio a tue bellezze e taei,

not quite so pure as for the former and baving refined the mixture Che se Bacro fa versi alle mie labbra

with a little ef bis osa essence, be distributed is among the stars, Fo le fche a vostri baci.

ssbicka served as reservoirs of the fluid. Taut ALT+ ** Tanay esser vorrei Coppier,

επι τον προτερον κρατήρα ενώ την του παντος ψυχην Es troppo desiro

*SPANTUs ejiog!, *.T.A. Deh fossi io Bottiglier.

* We learn from TREOPHRASTes, that the roses of Cyrene were Rime del CRIARERA, part

particularly fragrant. Ευοσμοτατα τα δε τα εν Κυρηνη ροδα.



cvery Grace

Of dimpled Hebe, as she wing'd her feet

Wafted the robe whose sacred flow

Shadow'd her kindling charms of snow,
The empyreal mount,

Pure, as an Eleusinian veil
To drain the soul-drops at their stellar fount;'

Hangs o'er the mysteries!
And still,
As the resplendent rill

*the brow of Juno flushdFlamed o'er the goblet with a mantling heat,

Love bless'd the breeze!
Her graceful care

The Muses blush'd.
Would cool its heavenly fire

And every cheek was hid behind a lyre, In gelid waves of snowy-feather'd air,

While every eye was glancing through the strings. Such as the children of the pole respire,

Drops of ethereal dew,
In those enchanted lands 2

That burning gush'd,
Where life is all a spring and north winds never blow! As the great goblei flew
But oh!

From Hebe's pearly fingers through the sky!
Sweet Hebe, what a tear

Who was the spirit that remember'd Man
And what a blush were thine,

Ju that voluptuous lour ?
When, as the breath of

And with a wing of Love
Wafted thy fleet career

Brush'd off your scatter'd tears,
Along the studded sphere,

As o'er the spangled heaven they ran,
With a rich cup for Jove himself to drink,

And sent them floating to our orb below??
Some star, that glitter'd in the way,

Essence of immortality!
Raising its amorous head

The shower
To kiss so exquisite a tread,

Fell glowing through the spheres,
Check'd thy impatical pace!

While all around, new tints of bliss,
And all Heaven's host of

New perfumes of delight,
Saw those luxuriant beauties sink

Enrich'd its radiant flow!
In lapse of loveliness, along the azure skies! 3

Now, with a humid kiss,
Upon whose starry plain they lay,

It thrill'd along the beamy wire
Like a young blossom on our meads of golil,

Of heaven's illumined lyre, 3
Shed from a veroal thorn

Stealing the soul of music in its flight!
Amid the liquid sparkles of the morn!

And now, amid the breezes bland Or, as in temples of the Paphian shade,

That whisper from the planets as they roll, The myrıled votaries of the queen behold

The bright libation, softly faond
An image of their rosy idol, laid

By all their siglas, meandering stole!
Upon a diamond shrine !

They who, from Atlas' height,
The wanton wind,

Beheld the rill of flame
Which had pursued the flying fair,

Descending through the waste of night,
And sweetly twined

Thought 't was a planet whose stupendous frame Its spirit with the breathing rings

Had kindled as it rapidly revolved
Of her ambrosial hair,

Around its fervid axle, and dissolved
Soar'd as she fell, and on its ruftling wings

luto a food so bright! (Oh wanton wind!)

The child of day, ' Heraclius (Physir u*) held the soul to be a spark of thic stellar

Within his twilight bower,
Scintilla stellaris cascatia..--MACRODIUS, in Somn. Scip.

Lay sweetly sleeping lib, i. cap. 14.

On the tlustid bosom of a lotos-flower ;' ? The country of the Hyperboreans; they were supposed to be placed so far porth that the north wind could not affect them; they

The arcane symbols of this ceremony were deposited in the risua. lived longer than any other mortals; passed their whole time in music

is here tbey lay religiously concealed froin the eyes of the prolaze. and dancing, etc. etc. Bat the most extravagant fiction latest of

an ass; and heart them is that to which the two lines preceding allude. It was imagined They were generally carried in the procession by

the proverb, which one may so often apply in the world, asinas por that instead of our yulgar atmosphere, the Hyperboreans brestbed

tat mysteria.•-See the Divine Legation, book ii, sext, 4. nothing but feathers! Arcording to HERODOTUS and Pury, this idea

? Jn iho Geoponica, lib. ii. cap. 19. there is a fable some bar like was suggested by the quantity of snow which wis observed to call in

this descent of the nectar to earih. Ev oupaya Toy Sim those regions, thus the former: Ta áv TTECER EVXGZONTASTNY

ευωχουμενων, και του νεκταρος πολλου παρακείμενο, χιονα τους Σκυθας τε και τους περιοικους δοκεα nege18.-Hrnodos. libiv. cap. 31. Oviv tells the table otherwise, 272 TaipTNOU KOBELCL Toy Ep@ttu tol JUTTUTHI T5 See Metamorph. lib. 15.

πτερα του κρατηρος την βασιν, και περιτρεψαι με Mr O Halloran, and some other Trisha Antiquarians, baro been at

αυτον το δε νεκταρ εις την γην εκχυθεν, κ. τ. λ.great expense of learning to prove that the strange country, there

Sce Autor. de Re Rust. eddie Cantab, "poj they took sow for feathers, was Ireland, and that the famous Abaris

1 The constellation Lyra. The astrologers attribute great virters was an Irish Druid, Mr Rowland, however, will have it, that Abaris to this sign in ascendenti, which are enumerated by Pontare,

Uruniu $$$ Welshmaan, and that his name is only a corruption of Ap Rees! II believe it is SPRVU A who mention this unlucky trip which Heba

Ecce novern cum pectine chordas made in her hccupation of cupbarer, and that in tells it after

Emodulans, mulce que noso vaga sidera cantu bum: «Curn Hebe pocula Jori ministrans, perque labrum minus

Qapir nascentumu animæ concordia ducunt cute incrdens, creidissri, revolutisque veanbuss-in shore, she fell in

Pectura, etc. a very awkward manner, and though (15 the Encyclopedistes think) would have amused Jornal aos other tine, ilir bappened to

4 The Feyptians represented the down of day by a young be out of temper vn that day, the poor dit was dismissed from her

seated upon a lotos. Ειτε Αιγυπτους εαρακας α, ** emplismeor.

ανατολης παιδιον νεογνον γραφοντας επι λετον 13

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