next morning, as soon as it was light, we went at it ding dong, and drove all before us, 'till yesterday, the 7th July, that we entered Paris; but ever since the 15th June, till 7th July, we have oniy laid down on the ground with our clothes on; so leave you to judge if I am not fatigued out.

Blucher l'ode by the side of Lord Wellington yesterday, when we entered Paris. As we was on the advance after the French army, every town we came to the people was all fled to l'aris, and bad taken away what they could; and British, Prussian, and Russian army, broke their houses open and plundered what was most good, and set fire to some. Wine was more plentiful than waler, for all their cellars were full of wine, the same as Tucker's is full of cyder, and that was the first place the soldiers broke open. I have often been in cellars, and what wine we could not drink or carry away, broke in the heads of the casks and let it run about. We marched through towns as large as Exeter, and not a person to be seen, but all locked up and window-shutters fastened. There is, at this time, upwards of 700,000 soldiers in Paris and the suburbs: but, as for Bony and his army, it is gone, God knows where; when I have my answer to this, shall write you again. Hope to sleep sound to-night, so no more from your affectionate son.

John LEWIS.

A MILITIA-MAN'S EXCUSE. The following is an exact copy of an application which was made, during our late war by a citizen of this state, to be released from standing bis draft. Aprill the 11th day 1814

En estate ment of me not being able to Stand my Draft where as i am troublet with an pain in my Right Side a lump apearingly as big as an agg, by times it apears as big twist often times i thing it is the Decay, i Can Stand no hevy work that requiers Stuping, and have been troublet with this paines severels years, i Can not Stand Riding with out i have my Self bound to kip it from Shaking, i Can stand no wet nor Lying out a home he at night, i implide to Doctor Franch and he told me that he Could not qure me and no othere Doctor, because it is too Long Sence it took place and the Doctor, aloit then that it was or woulde turne to the de. cay perhaps he said if you take good Care of your Self perhaps it wood grow over with a little Skin, but i find my Self giting worse, and if i git wet and Coit about home i am Sure to taking my bet for Some days, and besides this i greadly Troubled with Rumatisem painse, and if it Should Cost all my Estate, i would to the best of my knoledge not be able to stand one tower of duty where as the law Requiers Stout able men Gentleman this wbat i have to Say

VOL. IV.

X

X

346

POETRY.-FOR THE PORT FOLIO.

THE DEATH OF TASSO.

· After a long series of misfortunes, Tasso was invited to Rome, by pupe Clement VIII, to be crowned with laurels at a convocation of cardinals. He arrived in the eternal city, but died on the morning of the day appropriated to this memorable ceremony. The subject was selected, recently, 'by the Royal Institute of France, for the grand prize for musical composition, and M. Dejouy, was the successful candidate. We have not seen the music, but the words are very beautiful. We transcribe them into the Port Folio, with the hope that some of our correspondents may furnish a translation.

CANTATE.
Réveille-toi, mon ame; encor cette victoire!
Oppose à la douleur un genereux effort;
Et que pour un moment les rayons de la gloire

Percent les ombres de la mort.
Quels chants frappent les airs! Quel eclat m'environne!
De la pompe des rois mes yeux sont eblouis.

Pour qui ce char, cette couronne!
A qui destinez-vous ces honneurs inouis!

Eh quoi! d'une palme immortelle
J'obtiens en ce jour le renom;

Un peuple entier m' appalle,

Et la ville eternelle
Prepare mon triomphe et consacre mon nom.

OAVATINE.
O toi, ma lumière, ma vie,
Toi l'arbitre de mon destin,
Qui de l'amour et du génie
Allumas la flamme, en mon sein;
Auguste et tendre Eléonore*
Souris à ce glorieux jour:

Le triomphe dont on m' honore

Me rend digne de ton amour.
Modèle de malheur, jouet du sort perfide,
Celui dont les travaux ont charmé l'univers,

Le chantre de Renaud, d' Armide,
A vécu dans les pleurs, a langui dans les fers!

Des maux qui furent votre ouvrage,
Vous voulez expier l'outrage;
Hâtez-vous, injustes mortels!
L'oubli, l'opprobre, la misère,
Ont marqué mes pas sur la terre:
Je meurs, et j' obtins des autels.

AIR.

Qu'aux derniers accords de ma lyre
Réponde la postérité!
Pour moi, le moment où j' expire,
Commence l' immortalité!
Sans regrets du temps qui s'envole
Je vois disparoitre le cours;
Il est beau de finir ses jours
Sur les degrés du capitole;

CHÆUR.
Chantez, muses! pleurer, amours!
Le Tasse est tombé sur sa lyre
L'amant d'Eléonore expire,
Le poète vivra toujours.

THE A. B. c.

Tune“ The Chapter of Kings." The following Song was composed at the time of Bonaparte's exile to Elba in 1814, and was sung with great enthusiasm at convivial meetings in England. We transcribe it for its ingenuity and drollery, without any disposition to be merry on the signal fate of this scourge of Europe.

The downfall of Boney has made a great noise,
Men, women and children, together rejoice;

And little boys learning to spell a-p-ap,
The alphabet ransack in lampooning Nap-

Chorus.
So now you shall see,
How with A, B, and C,

They sing his disasters in turn.

A, stands for Alexander, the brave;
B, the great Blucher, who conquered to save;
C, for the crown, to which Louis has claim;
And D, for dethronement and death to Nap's fame.

And thus 'tis you see, &c.

E, stands for Elba, poor Boney's retreat;
F, for his farewell, and fatal defeat;
G, for the gladness proclaimed through the land;
And H, for the heroes who have gone hand-in-hand.

And thus 'tis you see, &c.

I, stands for ills Nap sustained to his cost;
K, keeps in mind his keen friend Jacky Frost;
L, stands for Leipsic, from whence Boney fled,
And M, for the Mounseers, who died with hot lead.

And thus 'tis you see, &c.

N, stands for Nap, whose nine-pounders ran short:
O! cried the French, as retreating they fought;
P, proves how pretty the bridge went to pot;
And Q, what a quiz of a Corporal they'd got.

And thus 'tis you see, &c.

R, stands for run-away-ruins last touch;
S, for the sober sound sense of the Dutch;
T, for the tyrant, who had long been their bane;
And V, for Verheuil, who resisted in vain.

And thus 'tis you see, &c.

Now W, Wellington's name must disclose;
And X, Y, and Z, his brave mens', we suppose;

Then this alphabet surely, now Boney's undone,
Will do well to teach to his darling young son.

And if he can spell,
He will see very well,

All his Daddy's disasters in turn.

ADDRESSED TO AN INFANT BOY WITH A SMALL TOY-WATCH.

By the late Mr. Alsop.
Sweetly smiling cherub child,

Blooming in this infant spring;
In whose breast no care resides,

Nor grief has fixed its bitter sting,
From one by tender ties affin’d,

One, who holds thy welfare dear,
This small pledge of love receive,

Present of the opening year.
Emblem of thy little day,

Scarce past one, it points the hour;
Yet a little, and will pass

Childhood's sweetly blooming flower.
To thy artless, fond caress,

Infant play, and painted toys;
Of youths the herald, will succeed

Boyhood's sports, and ruder joys.
Swift the sportive years have flown,

'Neath the feathered foot of time;
Lo! the youth, a boy no more,

Glows elate in manhood's prime.
Other objects now engage,

Loftier views the mind employ;
Ill exchanged, the happy sports

Of the once contented boy.
May this little mark of love,

Thy dark eyes with pleasure light;