Appeared ten thousand slanders, all his own. 629. PERRY'S VICTORY. Were anything And those, forsaken of God, and to themselves giv wanting, to perpetuate the fame of this vic-The prudent shunned him, and his house, [en up tory, it would be sufficiently memorable, from As one, who had a deadly moral plague ; the scene where it was fought. This war has And fain all would have shunned him, at the day been distinguished, by new and peculiar characteristics. Naval warfare has been carried Of judgment; but in vain. All, who gave ear, into the interior of a continent, and navies, With greediness, or, wittingly, their tongues as if by magic, launched from among the Made herald to his lies, around him wailed; depths of the forest! The bosom of peace-While on his face, thrown back by injured men fuflakes, which, but a short time since, weren characters of ever-blushing shame, scarcely navigated by man, except to be skimmed by the light canoe of the savage, have all at once been ploughed by hostile ships. The vast silence, that had reigned, for ages, on these mighty waters, was broken by the thunder of artillery, and the affrighted savage-stared, with amazement, from his covert, at the sudden apparition of a seafight, amid the solitudes of the wilderness. The peal of war has once sounded on that Jake, but probably, will never sound again. The last roar of cannon, that died along her shores, was the expiring note of British domination. Those vast, eternal seas will, perhaps, never again be the separating space, between contending nations; but will be embosomed-within a mighty empire; and this victory, which decided their fate, will stand unrivalled, and alone, deriving lustre, and perpetuity, from its singleness. 630. TRUE FRIENDSHIP. Damon and Py thias, of the Pythagorean sect in philosophy, lived in the time of Dionysius, the tyrant of Their mutual friendship was Sicily. strong, that they were ready to die for one another. One of the two, (for it is not known which,) being condemned to death, by the tyrant, obtained leave to go into his own country, to settle his affairs, on condition, that the other should consent to be imprisoned in his stead, and put to death for him, if he did not return, before the day of execution. The atrant himself, was excited to the highest pitch, tention of every one, and especially of the tyas every body was curious, to see what would be the event of so strange an atlair. When the time was almost elapsed, and he who was gone did not appear; the rashness of the other, whose sanguine friendship had put him upon running so seemingly desperate a hazard, was universally blamed. But he still declared, that he had not the least shadow of doubt in his mind, of his friend's fidelity. The event showed how well he knew him. He came in due time, and surrendered himself to that fate, which he had no reason to think he should escape; and which he did not desire to escape, by leaving his friend to suffer in his place. Such fidelity softened, even the savage heart of Dionysius himself. He pardoned the condemned; he gave the two friends to one another, and begged that they would take himself in for a third. In future times, when the shores of Erie shall hum with a busy population; when towns, and cities, shall brighten, where now, extend the dark tangled forest; when ports shall spread their arms, and lofty barks shall ride, where now the canoe is fastened to the stake; when the present age shall have grown into venerable antiquity, and the mists of fable begin to gather round its history, then, will the inhabitants of Canada look back to this battle we record, as one of the romantic achievements of the days of yore. It will stand first on the page of their local legends, and in the marvellous tales of the borders. The fisherman, as he loiters along the beach, will point to some half-buried cannon, corroded with the rust of time, and will speak of Deep-in the wave, is a coral grove, ocean warriors, that came from the shores of Where the purple mullet, and gold-fish rove. the Atlantic; while the boatman, as he trims Where the sea-flower-spreads its leaves of blue, his sail to the breeze, will chant, in rude dit-That never are wet, with fallen dew, ties, the name of Perry, the early hero of Lake Eric.-Irving. THE SLANDERER. Twas Slander, filled her mouth, with lying words, THE CORAL GROVE. But in bright and changeful beauty shine, Their bows, where the tides and billows flow; For the winds and the waves are absent there, The sea-flag streams through the silent water, To blush, like a banner, bathed in slaughter: There, with a light and easy motion, The fan-coral sweeps through the clear deep seat And the yellow and scarlet tufts of ocean, Are bending like corn, on the upland lea: Is sporting amid those bowers of stone, Pride goeth before destruction. 631. BRUTUS' HARANGUE ON CESAR'S DEATH. Romans, countrymen, and lovers! hear me for my cause; and be silent, that you may hear. Believe me--for mine honor; and have respect to mine honor, that you may believe. Censure me in your wisdom; and awake your senses, that you may the better judge. If there be any, in this assembly, any dear friend of Cesar's, to him I say that Brutus' love to Cesar-was no less than his. If, then, that friend demand, why Brutus-rose against Cesar, this is my answer: Not that I loved Cesar--less, but, that I loved Rome more. Had you rather Cesar were living, and die all slaves; than that Cesar were dead, to live all freemen? As Cesar loved me, I weep for him; as he was fortunate, I rejoice at it; as he was valiant, I honor him; but, as he was ambitious, I slew him. There are tears for his love, joy-for his fortune, honor-for his valor, and death-for his ambition. Who's here so base, that would be a bondman! if any, speak; for him--have I oflended. Who's here so rude, that would not be a Roman! if any, speak? for him-have I offended. Who's here so vile, that will not love his country? if any, speak; for him--have I offended.-I pause for a reply. None! then none--have I offended. I have done no more to Cesar, than you should do to Brutus. The question of his death-is enrolled in the capitol; his glory not extenuated, wherein he was worthy; nor his offences enforced, for which he suffered death. Here comes his body, mourned by Mark Antony; who, though he had no hand in his death, shall receive the benefit of his dying, a place in the commonwealth; as, which of you shall not!-With this I depart-that as I slew my best lover-for the good of Rome, I have the same dagger for myself, when it shall please my country to need my death. 632. ACCOMPLISHED YOUNG LADY. Dioptrics, optics, katoptrics, carbon, Chlorine, and iodine, and aerostatics; As Chinese, Portuguese, or German; and was quite familiar in Low Dutch and Spanish, Is Love, still love," had oft till midnight tried 633. CHARITY. Though I speak--with And though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and though I give my body to be burned, and have not charity, it profiteth me nothing. Charity-suffereth long, and is kind; charity--envieth not; charity-vaunteth not itself; it is not pulled up; doth not behave itself unseemly; seeketh not her own; is not easily provoked; thinketh no evil; rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth; beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things. Charity--never faileth: but whether there be prophecies, they shall fail; whether there be tongues, they shall cease; whether there That Wallack looked extremely well in Rolla; be knowledge, it shall vanish away. For we She fell in love, as all the ladies do, With Mr. Simpson-talked as loudly, too, As any beauty of the highest grade, To the gay circle in the box beside her; And Dr. Chalmers' sermons, of a Sunday; [gundi. know, in part, and we prophecy, in part. But, When I was a child, I spake as a child, I EARLY RISING AND PRAYER. When first thy eyes unvail, give thy soul leave The spirit's duty; true hearts-spread and heave After sun rising; for day-sullies flowers: 634. SAILOR BOY'S DREAM. In slumbers of midnight, the sailor boy lay; His hammock swung loose, at the sport of the wind; A trembling with transport, he raises the latch, A father bends o'er him, with looks of delight, His check is impearled, with a mother's warm tear, With the lips of the maid, whom his bosom holds dear. The heart of the sleeper bea's high in his breast, Joy quickens his pulse-all his hardships seem o'er, In darkness dissolves the gay frost-work of bliss- Shall home, love, or kindred, thy wishes repay; . Or releem form, or frame, from the merciless surge; Oh! sailor boy! sailor boy! peace to thy soul.-Dimond. TIME AND ITS CHANGES. Reformation is a work of time. A national taste, however wrong it may be, cannot be totally changed at once; we must yield a little to the prepos session, which has taken hold on the mind, and we may then bring people to adopt what would offend them, if endeavored to be introduced by violence. What's fame a fancied life in other's breath, Mind, not money-makes the man, 635. CHILD HAROLD.-CANTO IV. In deeming such-inhibit many a spot! There is a pleasure-in the pathless woods, He sinks into thy depths, with bubbling groan, (Calm, or convulsed, in breeze, or gale, or storm, Of the Invisible; even from out thy slime I wantoned with thy breakers-they to me [fits, In the dreams of delight, which with ardor w 636. PATRIOTIC TRIUMPH. The citizens of America-celebrate that day, which gave birth to their liberties. The recollection of this event, replete with consequences so beneficial to mankind, swells every heart with joy, and fills every tongue with praise. We celebrate, not the sanguinary exploits of a tyrant, to subjugate, and enslave-millions of his fellow-creatures; we celebrate, neither the birth, nor the coronation, of that phantom, styled a king; but, the resurrection of liberty, the emancipation of mankind, the regeneration of the world. These are the sources of our joy, these the causes of our triumph. We pay no homage at the tomb of kings, to subfine our feelings-we trace no line of illustrious ancesters, to support our dignity-we recur to no usages sanctioned by the authority of the great, to protect our rejoicing; no, we love liberty, we glory in the rights of ren, we glory in independence. On whatever part of God's creation a human form pines under chains, there, Americans drop their tears. A dark cloud once shaded this beautiful quarter of the globe. Consternation, for awhile, agitated the hearts of the inhabitants. War desolated our fields, and buried our vales in blood. But the dayspring from on high soon opened upon us its glittering portals. The angel of liberty descending, dropped on Washington's brow, the wreath of victory, and stamped on American freedom, the seal of omnipotence. The darkness is past, and the true light now shines-to enliven, and rejoice mankind. We tread a new earth, in which dwelleth righteousness; and view a new heaven, flaming with inextinguishable stars. Our feet will no more descend into the vale of oppressions; our shoulders will no more bend-under the weight of a foreign domination, as cruel, as it was unjust. Well may we rejoice-at the return of this glorious anniversary; a day dear to every American; a day--to be had in everlasting remembrance; a day, whose light circulates joy-through the hearts of all republicans, and terror through the hearts of all tyrants.-Maxy. 637. TIT FOR TAT: COQUETRY PUNISHED. Whose mirrors-never lie; A clown could take her eye?" For, wheresover moved the fair, When. from his lips, the fair should learn, At length, one morn, to taste the air, Edgar had nerved his bashful heart, He drove, nor slackened once his reins, Nor house, nor tree, nor shrub was near Forbade to speak of love. At last, one desperate effort broke If she'd become his own. She, tittered in his face; But he should know his place. your skull 639. WATERLOO; THE BALL AND BATTLE. And Belgium's capital-had gathered then A thousand hearts beat happily; and when could rise? 638. RECITATIONS INSTEAD OF THEATRES. In its present state, the theatre-de- There was a sound of revelry-by night, serves no encouragement. It has nourished intemperance, and all vice. In saying this, I do not say that the amusement is radically, essentially evil. I can conceive of a theatre, which would be the noblest of all amusements, and would take a high rank, among the means of refining the taste, and elevating the character of a people. The deep woes, the mighty, and terrible passions, and the sublime emotions-of genuine tragedy, are fitted to thrill us with human sympathies, with profound interest in our nature, with a consciousness of what man can do, and dare, and suiler, with an awed feeling of the fearful mysteries of life. The soul of the spectator is stirred from its depths; and the lethargy, in which so many live, is roused, at least for a time, to some intenseness of thought, and sensibility. The drama answers a high purpose, when it places us in the presence of the inost solemn, and striking event of human history, and lays bare to us the human heart, in its most powerful, appalling, glorious workings. But how little does the theatre accomplish its end? How often is it disgraced, by monstrous distortions of human nature, and still more disgraced by profaneness, coarseness, indelicacy, low wit, such as no woman, worthy of the name, can hear without a blush, and no man can take pleasure in-without self-degradation. Is it possible, that a christian, and a refined people, can resort to theatres, where exhibitions of dancing are given, fit only for brothels, and where the most licentious class in the community throng, unconcealed, to tempt, and destroy! That the theatre should be suffered to exist, in its present degradation, is a reproach to the community. Were it to fall, a better drama might spring up in its place. In the meantime, is there not an amusement, having an affinity with the drama, which might be usefully introduced among us? I mean, Recitations. A work of genius, recited by a man of fine taste, enthusiasm, and powers of elocution, is a very pure, and high gratification. Were this art cultivated, and encour aged. great numbers, now insensible to the most beautiful compositions, might be waked up to their excellence, and power. It is not easy to conceive of a more effectual way, of spreading a refined taste through a community. The drama, undoubtedly, appeals more strongly to the passions than recitation; but the latter brings out the meaning of the author nore. Shakspeare, worthily recited, would be better understood than on the stage. Then, in recitation, we escape the weariness of listening to poor performers; who, after all, fill up most of the time at the theatre. Recitations, sufficiently varied, so as to include pieces of chaste wit, as well of pathos, beauty and sublimity, is adapted to our present intellectnal progress, as much as the drama falls below it. Should this exhibition be introduced among us successfully, the result would be, that the power of recitation would be extensively called forth, and this would be added to our social, and domestic pleasures. Thou knowest but little, If thou dost think true virtue-is confined And there was mounting in hot haste; the steed And Ardennes waves above them her green leaves, blent! What's in the air? Some subtle spirit-runs through all my veins; When things go wrong, each fool presumes t' nd- |