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1 Somewhat like the symplegma of Cupid and Psyche at tinum, 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 illus delicately expressive of affection. See the Museum Floren-trating some of these ancient statues and gems.

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1 Pinkerton has said that "a good history and description of the Bermudas might afford a pleasing addition to the geographical library;" but there certainly are not materials for such a work. The island, since the time of its discovery, has experienced so very few vicissitudes, the people have been so indolent, and their trade so limited, that there is but little which the historian could amplify into importance; and, with respect to the natural productions of the country, the few which the inhabitants can be induced to cultivate are so common in the West Indies, that they have been described by every naturalis: who has written any account of those islands.

It is often asserted by the trans-Atlantic politicians that this little colony deserves more attention from the mother-country than it receives, and it certainly possesses advantages of situation, to which we should not be long insensible if it were once in the hands of an enemy. I was told by a celebrated friend of Washington, at New York, that they had formed a plan for its capture towards the conclusion of the American War; "with the intention (as he expressed himself) of making it a nest of hornets for the annoyance of British trade in that part of the world." And there is no doubt it lies so conveniently in the track to the West Indies, that an enemy might with ease convert it into a very harassing impediment.

The plan of Bishop Berkeley for a college at Bermuda, where American savages might be converted and educated, though concurred in by the government of the day, was a wild and useless speculation. Mr. Hamilton, who was governor of the island some years since, proposed, if I mistake not, the estab

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Oh! say, is it thus, in the mirth-bringing hou When friends are assembled, when wit, in flower,

Shoots forth from the lip, under Bacchus's dew, In blossoms of thought ever springing and newDo you sometimes remember, and hallow the bri Of your cup with a sigh, as you crown it to him Who is lonely and sad in these valleys so fair, And would pine in elysium, if friends were there!

Last night, when we came from the Calaba
Tree,

When my limbs were at rest and my spirit was fr
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,
The friends who were dear and beloved before,
But never till now so beloved and dear,
At the call of my fancy, surrounded me here;
And soon,-oh, at once, did the light of their smil
To a paradise brighten this region of isles;

More lucid the wave, as they look'd on it, flow'd.
And brighter the rose, as they gather'd it, glow'd
Not the valleys Herman, (though water'd by rills
Of the pearliest flow, from those pastoral hills,
Where the Song of the Shepherd, primeval and wi
Was taught to the nymphs by their mystical child
Could boast such a lustre o'er land and o'er wave
As the magic of love to this paradise gave.

lishment of a marine academy for the instruction of th children of West Indians, who might be intended for a nautical employment. This was a more rational idea, a for something of this nature the island is admirably calen ted. But the plan should be much more extensive, and e brace a general system of education; which would relie the colonists from the alternative to which they are reduc at present, of either sending their sons to England for struction, or intrusting them to colleges in the states America, where ideas, by no means favorable to Great B ain, are very sedulously inculcated.

The women of Bermuda, though not generally handson have an affectionate languor in their look and manner, whi is always interesting. What the French imply by their e thet aimante seems very much the character of the you Bermudian girls-that predisposition to loving, which, wit out being awakened by any particular object, diffuses its through the general manner in a tone of tenderness th never fails to fascinate. The men of the island, I confe are not very civilized: and the old philosopher, who in gined that, after this life, men would be changed into mul and women into turtle-doves, would find the metamorpho in some degree anticipated at Bermuda.

2 Mountains of Sicily, upon which Daphnis, the first ventor of bucolic poetry, was nursed by the nymphs. Seet lively description of these mountains in Diodorus Siculi lib. iv. Ηραια γαρ όρη κατα την Σικελίαν εστιν, ο βασι και AL, K. T. λ.

Oh magic of love! unembellish'd 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 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

STEERSMAN'S SONG,

WRITTEN ABOARD THE BOSTON FRIGATE 28TH APRIL.

WHEN freshly blows the northern gale,
And under courses snug we fly;

Or when light breezes swell the sail,

And royal: youdly sweep the sky;
'Longside the wneel, 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.

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,

1 A ship, ready to sail for England.

*I left Bermuda in the Boston about the middle of April, in company with the Cambrian and Leander, aboard the latter of which was the Admiral, Sir Andrew Mitchell, who divides his year between Halifax and Bermuda, and is the very soul of society and good-fellowship to both. We separated in a few days, and the Boston, after a short cruise, proceeded to New York.

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To wing its way unguided and alone,
The future smiling and the past unknown;
Then ardent man would to himself be new,
Earth at his foot and heaven within his view:
Well might the novice hope, the sanguine scheme
Of full perfection prompt his daring dream,
Ere cold experience, with her veteran lore,
Could tell him, fools had dreamt as much before.
But, tracing as we do, through age and clime,
The plans of virtue midst the deeds of crime,
The thinking follies and the reasoning rage
Of man, at once the idiot and the sage;
When still we see, through every varying frame
Of arts and polity, his course the same,
And know that ancient fools but died, to make
A space on earth for modern fools to take
;
'Tis strange, how quickly we the past forget;
That Wisdom's self should not be tutor❜d yet,
Nor tire of watching for the monstrous birth
Of pure perfection midst the sons of earth!

Oh! nothing but that soul which God has given, Could lead us thus to look on earth for heaven; O'er dross without to shed the light within, And dream of virtue while we see but sin.

Even here, beside the proud Potowmac's stream, Might sages still pursue the flatt'ring theme Of days to come, when man shall conquer fate, Rise o'er the level of his mortal state, Belie the monuments of frailty past, And plant perfection in this world at last! "Here," might they say, "shall power's divided reign

"Evince that patriots have not bled in vain. "Here godlike liberty's herculean youth, "Cradled in peace, and nurtured up by truth "To full maturity of nerve and mind, "Shall crush the giants that bestride mankind.' "Here shall religion's pure and balmy draught "In form no more from cups of state be quaff'd, "But flow for all, through nation, rank, and sect "Free as that heaven its tranquil waves reflect. "Around the columns of the public shrine "Shall growing arts their gradual wreath intwine, "Nor breathe corruption from the flow'ring braid, "Nor mine that fabric which they bloom to shade.

1 Thus Morse. "Here the sciences and the arts of civilized life are to receive their highest improvements: here civil and religious liberty are to flourish, unchecked by the cruel hand of civil or ecclesiastical tyranny: here genius, aided by all the improvements of former ages, is to be exerted in humanizing mankind, in expanding and enriching their minds with religious and philosophical knowledge," &c. &c. -P. 569.

2" What will be the old age of this government, if it is thus early decrepit!" Such was the remark of Fauchet, the

"No longer here shall justice bound her view, "Or wrong the many, while she rights the few; "But take her range through all the social frame, "Pure and pervading as that vital flame "Which warms at once our best and meanest par "And thrills a hair while it expands a heart!"

Oh golden dream! what soul that loves to scan
The bright disk rather than the dark of man,
That owns the good, while smarting with the ill,
And loves the world with all its frailty still,-
What ardent bosom does not spring to meet
The generous hope, with all that heavenly heat,
Which makes the soul unwilling to resign

The thoughts of growing, even on earth, divine!
Yes, dearest friend, I see thee glow to think
The chain of ages yet may boast a link
Of purer texture than the world has known,
And fit to bind us to a Godhead's throne.

But, is it thus? doth even the glorious dream Borrow from truth that dim, uncertain gleam, Which tempts us still to give such fancies scope, As shock not reason, while they nourish hope? No, no, believe me, 'tis not so-ev'n now, While yet upon Columbia's rising brow The showy smile of young presumption plays, Her bloom is poison'd and her heart decays. Even now, in dawn of life, her sickly breath Burns with the taint of empires near their death; And, like the nymphs of her own with'ring clime, She's old in youth, she's blasted in her prime."

Already has the child of Gallia's school, The foul Philosophy that sins by rule, With all her train of reasoning, damning arts, Begot by brilliant heads on worthless hearts, Like things that quicken after Nilus' flood, The venom'd birth of sunshine and of mud,Already has she pour'd her poison here O'er every charm that makes existence dear; Already blighted, with her black'ning trace, The op'ning bloom of every social grace, And all those courtesies, that love to shoot Round virtue's stem, the flow'rets of her fruit.

And were these errors but the wanton tide Of young luxuriance or unchasten'd pride;

French minister at Philadelphia, in that famous dispatch his government, which was intercepted by one of our cru ers in the year 1794. This curious memorial may be for in Porcupine's Works, vol. i. p. 279. It remains a strik monument of republican intrigue on one side, and republic profligacy on the other; and I would recommend the peru of it to every honest politician, who may labor under a ment's delusion with respect to the purity of Ameri patriotism.

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.

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 nobler 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.1

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,'
Who could their monarch in their purse forget,
And break allegiance, but to cancel debt,3

Have proved, at length, the mineral's tempting hue,

Which makes a patriot, can unmake him too."
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,

"Nous voyons que, dans les pays où l'on n'est affecté que de l'esprit de commerce, on trafique de toutes les actions humaines et de toutes les vertus morales.”—Montesquieu, de l'Esprit des Lois, liv. xx. chap. 2.

* I trust I shall not be suspected of a wish to justify those arbitrary steps of the English government which the colonies found it so necessary to resist; my only object here is to expose the selfish motive of some of the leading American demagogues.

The most persevering enemy to the interests of this country, amongst the politicians of the western world, has been a Virginian merchant, who, finding it easier to settle his conscience than his debts, was one of the first to raise the standard against Great Britain, and has ever since endeavered to revenge upon the whole country the obligations which he lies under to a few of its merchants.

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,
Form'd 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.

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 named, 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 slaved and madly freeAlike the bondage and the license suit, The brute made ruler and the man made brute.

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 nursed,
Where treason's arm by royalty was, nerved,
And Frenchmen learn'd to crush the throne they
served-

Thou, calmly lull'd in dreams of classic thought,
By bards illumined 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,

tion in 1794. In short, see Porcupine's works throughout, for ample corroboration of every sentiment which I have ventured to express. In saying this, I refer less to the comments of that writer than to the occurrences which he has related and the documents which he has preserved. Opinion may be suspected of bias, but facts speak for themselves.

In Virginia the effects of this system begin to be felt rather seriously. While the master raves of liberty, the slave cannot but catch the contagion, and accordingly there seldom elapses a month without some alarm of insurrection amongst the negroes. The accession of Louisiana, it is feared, will increase this embarrassment; as the numerous emigrations, which are expected to take place, from the southern states to this newly-acquired territory, will considerably diminish the white population, and thus strengthen the proportion of negroes, to a degree which must ultimately

• See Porcupine's account of the Pennsylvania Insurrec- be ruinous.

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