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crystal, and flowed gently on, till it had surrounded tions are, with very few exceptions, applied ed or founded our more mature character. the Knight's grave; it then pursued its course, and to every thing of consequence in the text. Then, the labours of all, who now gather emptied itself into a tranquil lake, which was near the consecrated ground. Even in our times, the They are so constructed, that no one can the fading recollections and traditions of inhabitants of the village show the stream, and en- enable himself to understand and answer elder days, and give them a permanent tertain an opinion that this is the poor, deserted them, without making himself master of the form, will be duly appreciated. The exeUndine, who, in this manner still surrounds with whole subject which they regard.

cution of Mr Moore's work is as good as her affectionate arms, her beloved husband." The typography of the work, in every the plan and purpose ; it displays good sense, We have given these passages, not be respect but that of literal correctness, is good taste, and much industry.

The “ Annals of Concord” are brought cause they are all of them among the best excellent; there are some errors of this which could have been selected, but as af- sort, but all which could cause any mistake, down, quite to the present day, and some fording upon the whole, a pretty fair view are corrected with the pen. It may be account is given of all the inhabitants of of the character and execution of the well to add, that the addition of the ques- the town, who have been remarkable in work. For ourselves, we repeat, that we tions does not increase the price of the any respect. The notice of Benjamin have been highly delighted with it. The work, this edition being sold at the same Thompson, Count Rumford, who passed some name of the translator is not given, and we rate as the 12mo edition of Blair's Rheto- years in Concord, is peculiarly interestknow not to whom we are indebted for the ric in common use.

ing. pleasure it has afforded us. His task, we

There is much in these Annals respecting have no doubt, though we have no acquaint

the Indian warfare; much that it is now ance with the original, has been executed Annals of the Town of Concord, in the Coun- difficult to realize as having actually exwith fidelity; we know at least, that the ty of Merrimack, and State of New isted. What a contrast is there, between English dress in which he has presented Hampshire, from its first Settlement, in the present peaceful and secure condition this fanciful little tale, is neat, often beau- the Year 1726, to the Year 1823. With of our towns, and a situation which exposed tiful, and always interesting.

several Biographical Sketches. To which them to circumstances like those narrated
is added, a Memoir of the Penacook In- page 23.
dians. By Jacob B. Moore. 8vo. PP habitants set out for Hopkinton, two on horses, and

"On Monday morning, the 11th, seven of the inAn Abridgment of Lectures on Rhetoric. 112. Concord, 1824.

the others on foot, all armed. They marched on By Hugh Blair, D. D. Improved by the This simple and unpretending book, is both leisurely, and Obadiah Peters, having proceeded addition of Appropriate Marginal Ques- pleasing and useful, in a high degree. It some distance forward of the others into a hollow, tions, numbered to correspond with Refer- appears from the preface, that the author about one mile and a half from the street, set down ences in the body of the page. By Na- collected the facts and materials for his The Indians, thinking themselves discovered, rose

his gun and waited the approach of his friends. thaniel Greene. 12mo. pp. 238. Boston own use, but concluded to publish these An- from their hiding-places, fired and killed Peters on 1824.

nals, in the belief that they would be gen- the spot. At this moment, Jonathan Bradley and The questions printed in the margin of erally interesting. He did well to collect, the rest of his party had gained the summit of the each page, are perfectly simple and dis- and better to publish them; and we hope hill. Bradley was deceived in the number of the tinct, and well calculated to direct the at- his success will be such as to encourage sim-ters to compose the whole party. He ordered his

enemy, supposing the few whom he saw near Pe. tention of the scholar to those statements in ilar undertakings. Works like this are men to fire, and they rushed down among them. the text, which it is most important that he needed to illustrate our earliest history. It The whole body of Indians instantly arose, being should comprehend and remember. Every gives a plain relation of the first settlement about 100 in number. Bradley now urged his men instructer who is properly desirous that his of Concord, with a minute account of the to fly for safety; but it was too late—the work of pupil should profit by the book he reads, difficulties encountered and subdued, and shot through the body-stripped of his clothing,

destruction bad commenced. Samuel Bradley was must ask him many questions respecting it; of all the doings, public and private, -for and scalped. To Jonathan they offered 'good not only to assure himself that it has been they were then almost the same,-of the quarter," having been acquainted with him, but studied with sufficient assiduity, but to lead infant colony. The interior townships he refused their protection, his heroic spirit thirstthe mind of his scholar to those subjects of New England were settled in a some- ing to avenge the death of his comrades. He which he should examine with most care. what similar manner, and yet the early until they struck him on his face repeatedly with

fought with his gun against the cloud of enemies, But few masters, compelled as they must history of each has peculiarities that give their knives and tomahawks, and literally hewed be, to make little preparation in this re- to it a distinct interest. They agree, in him down. They then pierced his body, took off spect, can devise at once questions so much that a wilderness was about them, thinly his scalp and clothes. Two others, John Bean and to the point, as those which are here peopled by a savage enemy, of equal ac- John Lufkin, attempting to fly, were killed by the attached to the text; of course, these tivity and malignity; that' famine often same fire with Samuel Bradley Alexander Robmust not only be of great assistance to the came amongst them, threatening if not de- death, but were made prisoners and taken

to Can

erts and William Stickney fortunately escaped teacher, but of importance to the schol- stroying ; and that they generally, quite asada. Immediately after the melancholy affair took ar, because they secure to him an exam- soon as they were established, contrived to place, an alarm was given from Walker's garrison ination, at once precise and full. An- get into quarrels with their neighbours, to the people on the interval, and elsewhere, at other advantage isthat when boys recite about boundaries, or privileges of some consulted on measures of safety. The soldiers sta

some little distance. They soon assembled and in numerous classes, as must be the case in kind. But the details of the savage war tioned at the garrison, and several of the inhabiacademies, but a small proportion of them differ, sometimes according to casual cir- tants, then repaired to the scene of slaughter. As can be examined with much care; but any cumstances of location or condition, and they approached, the Indians were seen upon the one who uses this edition, while he studies sometimes from the differing habits of dif- retreat. The bodies were brought away in a cart, the text, will have his attention directed ferent tribes of Indians; the dangers and and were interred in the church-yard on the followwhere a skilful master would wish to lead difficulties surmounted, and the spirit and unknown to the inhabitants until some time after,

ing day. The number killed of the Indians was it; it is in fact, the same thing as if he resources which met them, are infinitely when the information was obtained from Roberts, studied the work with constant reference various. These particulars are more than who had made his escape from captivity. He stato a digest, or compact abridgment of it. amusing; they are the materials for useful ted that four were killed, and several wounded, two The only objection which can be urged a- history: they serve to illustrate vividly, mortally, who were conveyed away upon litters, gainst this method of printing school-books, both the character that our fathers brought hemlock tree in the Great Swamp, about half a mile

and soon after died. Two they buried under a large is, that scholars, knowing beforehand what with them, and that which they found in south of the scene of slaughter. The other two questions are to be asked them, prepare the aborigines. In time to come, it will be, were buried at some distance from them, near Turthemselves accordingly, and neglect the re- perhaps, thought more interesting than it key river. Roberts found the two bodies under mainder of the book. This is a point which is now, to seek in the conduct and condi- the log after his return from captivity. The head deserves much attention; it is

, however, tion of the infancy of our country, those of one was taken away, it was supposed, by wild but just to say, that in this work, the ques- traits, and those impressions, which indicat-beasts. For the skull of the other, a bounty was

paid by the government."





On page 76 we have a copy of a letters and its maker, but of all goodness, justice,gar passion and all vile impulses are conwritten by an Indian Chief, to Cranfield, and happiness. If we may judge from his tinually uttering, is, that the love of these Lieut. Governor of New Hampshire. It is writings,—not from his prefaces and apolo- things is spirited ambition, and the ennobcurious enough to be extracted.

gies, excuses and explanations, but his prin- ling aspiration of great minds. There are

cipal works, those which have cost him care few whom this powerful lie does not at some

“ May 15th, 1685. " Honour gouernor my friend,

and toil, and on which he relies for fame, seasons and in some measure deceive, and You my friend I desire your worship and your -his prevalent and habitual sentiment is a there are many whom it deludes and ruins. power, because I hope you can do som great mat- thorough and bitter scorn for every thing How wholly unnecessary is it, to teach men ters this one. I am poor and naked, and I have but depravity, and an universal distrust of to forget that man is good, that his hopes no man at my place because I afraid allwayes Mohogs he will kill me every day and night. If your every thing but falsehood. Virtue, honesty, are secure and his happiness real, just in worship when please pray help me you no let Mo- respect for right, and obedience to law, are proportion as he loves peaceful usefulness hogs kill me at my place at Malamake river called with him, only cheating hypocrisy or cheat- betier than stife and turmoil, and pursues Panukkog and Nattukkog, I will submit your wor. ed folly ; be deems it an abuse and an error the path of his duty, looking not above or ship and your power. And now I want pouder and to suppose that men do themselves good by beyond him, but at his work. such alminishon, shot and guns, because I have imposing upon themselves restraints, and Earth would be heaven, if men loved forth at my hom and I plant theare.

This all Indian hand, but pray do you consider considers him wise, who overleaps the their duty better than its reward, and sought your bumble servant,

bounds which fasten in society, and dares no other recompense than the pleasure of JOHN HOGKINS." to forget or defy in mad revelry all cus- doing good. This a condition which can

tom, decency, and law. It is his settled hardly be imagined and never perhaps

creed, that we know not and cannot know, be reached ; still it should be perpetually apCain ; a Mystery. By Lord Byron. Bos- by what cause or to what end we are in be- proached. It should be a goal towards ton. 1822. 18mo. pp. 79.

ing; religion is with him a time-rooted which all hope and effort should tend; and The Deformed Transformed; a Drama. falsehood, to which weakness, suffering, and there is nothing good and pure in the affecBy the Right Hon. Lord Byron. First fear have given power,-a strange folly, tions, nothing true in thought, and nothing American from the second London edition. making men barter away ease, liberty, and rational in belief or expectation, which

Philadelphia. 1824. 12mo. pp. 84. pleasure for an equivalent to be repaid only does not look to it. Amid the barrenness of Few living authors exert so strong and to him who has become nothing; he sees in earth, even as it is, there are green and wide an influence as Lord Byron. His in. hope a miserable delusion, and in death lovely spots ; primeval happiness comes tellect is remarkable, not for its power nothing but the chill and darkness and cor- again, with a reality beyond the dream of alone ; with those qualities which are most ruption of the grave. These opinions of poetry or the hope of enthusiasm, to a pure sure to awaken and arrest attention, he has, his oppose the universal and hereditary heart, dwelling in a humble and a peaceful in an uncommon measure, the faculties most opinion of the world, and believing himseif home. The love of self has many forms necessary to take advantage of opportunities right, he, of course, thinks that he is wiser and many names; it is lofty ambition, noble thus gained. He is not only a poet of a high than the world, and that his views are more pride, just revenge, and many things akin

extended and accurate. order, but an original, fearless, versatile, vain of the distinction, and regards it with dwell

, for where they are, there is no room

Of course be is to these ; but with them happiness cannot and sometimes mysterious character; he is therefore certain of patient and earnest should see it, and he tells men earnestly and that she loves, are innocent and humble, but

much complacency, and is willing that all and no welcome for her. The companions listeners; and upon all who listen to his song, he can throw a spell which few are

eloquently what fools, cowards, or hypo- glad and grateful thoughts, and pure and strong enough to break, by his absolute crites they are for believing, hoping, fear-kind affections; thoughts and affections command over the melodies of language

ing, and professing like their fathers; that which come from heaven and almost bear and all that is powerful or beautiful in im- they may feel his superiority, his bold sa- one thither, but which Byron, and they who agery, and by his skill in waking the grace- gacity, who tells them so.

are infected by his influence, hold in utter ful play of gay or tender thoughts, or paint

Some things he has written to revenge scorn. This is a heavy accusation ; let us ing the fiercest madness of passion, or con- an injury; his mind is versatile and active, examine if it be not just. trasting all action and motion, whether and he has written some things merely from Who are his heroes? Who are they, to peaceful and joyous or fearful, with the caprice or in idleness; of late, some of the whom he gives beauty and courage and solemn calm of feelings, deep, 'silent, and appendages to his poems indicate alarm, if power? Who is he, that, whether his name tranquil as a reposing ocean. A man thus

not penitence; but the mass of his power- be Harold or Manfred, Conrad, Lara, or endowed, if he be,—as Lord Byron is, – tul and splendid poetry has a distinct and the Giaour, is a reflection of the character ambitious of influence and notoriety, for we for satire, or humour, or pathos, or exquisite reckless ambition is utterly regardless of

strongly marked character. His talents which Lord Byron loves? He is one, whose will not call

it fame, cannot pass through description of the beauty or sublimity of all that does not minister to its own indulhis course, without giving a permanent direction to some minds and a bias to many, fully exerted as when he is fighting against others as born only for his use, and whose

nature, are never so strenuously and success. gence, whose miserable pride looks upon and thus doing much to establish his own all the best affections and unfailing

hopes ready vengeance is awakened against all fashion of regarding those topics which and sanctifying truths, which are left for who chance to cross his wayward path. form

the strength or consolation of humanity. " His haunt, and the main region of his song."

Such a being may exist; probably many

It is mockery to ask whether such a man, such do exist; but when these qualities beThe extent and character of his influ- writing thus, produces a good or evil effect; long to men living in society, the absurdity ence is a subject well worthy of examina- the only question is, what is the evil, which of supposing them ennobling rather than tion. We speak not of the effect of By- most naturally grows out of his works? degrading, is impossible. Such men are ron's example upon the forms and appear. The answer is obvious. He has confounded avoided ; they feel no love and they seek ances of poetry, nor of the changes he may the distinction between all evil and all none; if they are unable or unwilling to have caused on the surface or in the depths good, and made beautiful and alluring by hide their pride and selfishness, all who apof literature, if any such there be; but of specious falsehood, that which in truth and proach them, recoil with disgust; and if the influence he has exerted upon the gen- in reality is as repulsive as it is dangerous. those qualities are hidden, it is by a disguise eral habits of thinking and feeling in culti- It is the evil of man's nature, which alone, of mean and temporary suavity, which Byvated society.

whatever be its features or disguise, loves ron's poetry could not endure. Such must Lord Byron is an infidel; a thorough and discord, tumult, and revenge, and solitary be men who, in the ruling principles of consistent infidel. Of course we say this grandeur, and uncontrolled power; these thought and feeling, resemble Byron's faonly of Lord Byron as an anthor; as such, things barmonize with nothing that is good; vorites; and the falsehood of his poetry he is an unbeliever not merely of heaven and the great lie, which selfishness and vul- consists in giving to such characters unnat




ural and impossible attractions ; in making | but hatred, despairing yet untiring. Satan combat with Lucifer; they avoid him or them mild, amiable, and affectionate, lovely is invested with unimaginable sublimity; they stand before him fearful and feeble. and beloved, and happy in their ambition, but it is the sublimity of darkness illu- Now then, Byron, by the terms of his own their vengeance, or their sensuality. Thus mined with hell-fire : it is composed of seeking, is reduced within an obvious dilema character is created and strongly im- every element of awe and terror, and ma. He has given the victory to the advopressed upon the imagination, the direct is unqualified by any thing which can cate of infidelity; therefore he either would tendency of which is to produce, in the in- allure to sympathy or imitation. We feel not or could not defeat his sophistry; if he tellectual apprehension, an association be- that he holds bis burning sceptre because would not, it was because it is pleasant to tween things which approach each other he is supreme in pain ;-he speaks to the him to blaspheme, and he loved the awful only in fiction, and a disunion between sun as something which had been beneath falsehoods of his hero too fondly to bring those which are seldom sundered in reality, bis sphere, but curses the beam that brings them into light; if he could not, then the and never should be in the belief; between the memory of his past brightness; and we sad conclusion is inevitable, that he is inhumility and content, between usefulness are continually led to measure the height sensible to those truths and hopes and affecand happiness. It may be thought that all of his lost throne by the abyss into which tions which alone can elevaie man from romantic works are liable to this charge in he has fallen. He ineets the ministers of earth to happiness, and has not yet learned common with those of Lord Byron; but God in combat, in argument, and in pur- that none but the fool saith, There is no it applies to his productions with peculiar poses of evil, but he is exposed, defeated, God. aptness and force. In other works of this and punished, like a guilty and miserable It is impossible to read “ Cain,” without class, the evil is commonly palliated, and, in thing; he is a rebel and a blasphemer feeling that Lucifer is a favoured and cher. some sort, remedied, by a degree of regard to against the Most High, but his rebellion is ished character; it is impossible to compare those domestic charities and those duties its own punishment, his blasphemy is a cry Lucifer with the heroes of Lord Byron's and relations of society, which Byron seems of agony and despair, and his every word other works, without perceiving that he is neither to love, respect, nor understand. and action and purpose proclaims that his one with them. There is, we have already This regard is seldom very enlightened; sovereignty in wickedness and power and said, a distinct character, which every fabut, at the worst, it is a folly neutralizing torment is one. Is it thus with Byron's vorite of the Byron school bears, and this a falsehood, which in Byron's poetry is Lucifer? Far from it; the impression he is character, strongly exaggerated, and rewholly unresisted. That Lord Byron's in- calculated to produce is precisely the oppo- lieved from a few of the incongruous amiafluence is checked and decaying, is certain; site to that which is caused by the charac- bilities which are commonly attached to it, but who can deny that it has been great, that, ter of Satan.

becomes Lucifer. with any knowledge of human nature, has Milton's arch-fiend is opposed to the Al- There is a use in most things; and Lord any recollection of the admiration, which mighty as evil to good, as falsehood to truth, Byron may do some good, even as an author. his poems excited, and of the forgetful- as misery to peace and happiness ; but Lu- The limits which are put to his success, the ness of their moral character in the ac- cifer is triumphant and exulting. There is decay of his fame, the obloquy which is knowledgement of their power and splen- nothing of wretchedness about him, and he gathering about him, prove that there is dour.

declares himself to be miserable only that among those for whom he writes, a sense of We may appear to have pushed the he may better illustrate his proud scorn his folly and wickedness, which will not be charge of infidelity and impiety too far. and successful defiance of that Almighty wholly blinded even by the splendour of his Byron, as we have already remarked, has vengeance which cannot inflict so much as poetry. In his earlier works Byron appearof late made many protestations and excus- he can endure. The cause of truth and ed as a poet of extraordinary powers, who es, which, with some critics, appear to have goodness is argued by Cain, feebly and foolishly affected much melancholy, and a degree of weight. In the preface to against his will; Adam and Eve are repre- who unhappily failed to discover that the Cain he seems to anticipate the horror sented as unresisting victims of God's in- time had gone by, when an author could which the foul blasphemies of Lucife must justice, worshipping him rather in fear than advance bis reputation for talent and origiexcite, and endeavours to excuse or defend in love. Abel, Adah, and Zillah are very nality by indulging his spleen in sneers at them, by saying that “it was difficult to good and peaceful, but rather weak and every thing holy, virtuous, or honourable. make him talk like a clergyman.” He else- quite unable to aid Cain in his wordy con- He wrote a series of delightful tales, unitwhere refers to a great precedent for his test with Lucifer. The spirit of evil is ing to great novelty in point of character justification : he appeals to Milton; and by alike triumphant in argument and in temp- every species of poetic beauty. At this the example of Milton, as far as two spirits tation; and his weapons are the same in period his reputation was at its height ; he so discordant can be brought into compari- both. He tempts to disobedience and sin, had indeed discovered the traits of character son, let him judged.

by promising knowledge; and overcomes which he has since shown more openly, but The Satan of Paradise Lost, is the sub- the habits of devotion in which Cain had he had not then obtruded them upon public lime of evil. It was a thought which mark- been educated, by performing his promise, notice; he had not yet written Don Juan ed the character of Milton's intellect, to by compelling the reason of Cain to admit and Cain, as if to show that the finest poetregard a pure hatred of God, as the crown that man is miserable because God is essen- ry might be used to decorate vulgar licened and sovereign sin. Had the subordinate tially unjust and cruel! This tremendous tiousness or the sophistry and curses of devils been the creations of a less mighty blasphemy is repeated in many forms and blasphemy. But he has since gone so far mind, they would have differed from their with all possible distinctness, and adorned as to alarin and shock every feeling of love leader and from each other, only as they with all the poetry and enforced with all for goodness or respect for sanctity. Pubwere tainted with more or less wickedness. the eloquence which Lord Byron could lic sentiment is decidedly against him; his But it is not so: each one represents some command. It is no palliation, that Lucifer's last books do not sell; they remain on the elemental vice, and, in all that he says or arguments are altogether trite and futile, booksellers' shelves instead of being dedoes shows, with exceeding truth, the im- for they are all that infidelity has yet found. manded with an avidity which could hardly pulse and tendency of the sin he personi- To the excuse which Byron offers in his be supplied. The last cantos of Juan are fies. Avarice, Ambition, and Sensuality are own defence, that he was obliged to make almost unread here, and were it not for the there in vivid but disgusting reality. They his persons speak in character, we need not newspapers, which extract their best pasare there with their brethren, leading the answer that he was nowise required to sages, it would hardly be known that Byron armies of hell; but they bow with willing write that which could not be written with continued to write. In this fact there is inself-abasement to the preeminence in sin out blasphemy,--for the excuse wholly fails finite encouragement for them who hope and in suffering of him, on whom they rest of itself. If Lucifer must speak in charac- that men will one day learn to prefer good their hopes and from whom they derive ter, why must not Adam and Abel and to evil, and who would add their mite of their strength; of him, who is the life, the the Angel of the Lord,- for he too is a effort, to bring about this blessed consume essential spirit of all ill, as he is nought person of this Mystery ? But they do not mation.



There is an attempt to liken “Cain” to He is my father: but I thought that 'twere In the clear waters, when they are gentle, and the ancient Mysteries or Moralities ; per- Rever to have

been stung at all, than to A better portion for the animal

When thou art gentle. Love us, then, my Cain ! haps to give it the sanction of some exam- Purchase renewal of its little life

And love thy self for our sakes, for we love thee.

Look! how he laughs and stretches out his arms, ple; but it differs from them about as much With agonies unutterable, though

And opens wide his blue eyes upon thine, as from our common, acting plays. It is a Dispell'd by antidotes."

To hail his father; while his little form poem in dialogue; the interlocutors are

Flutters as wing'd with joy. Talk not of pain !

Soon after, Cain, in vengeance for the The childless cherubs wel might envy thee Adam, Cain, and Abel,-Eve, Adah, and • Zillah, -and Lucifer and the Angel of the preference paid to Abel's sacrifice, endea. The pleasures of a parent ! Bless him, Cain !

Lord. There is very little story in the cours to destroy Abel's altar, and slays him as yet he hath no words to thank thee, but poem. It begins with a sacrifice which all for defending it. The Angel of the Lord His heart will, and thine own too.""

The “ Deformed Transformed” is the last the mortals offer in conjunction ; Cain is appears and pronounces the curse upon Cain, left alone, and Lucifer soon comes to him, who departs, a fugitive. There are passa- work which Byron has published; it is not and enters upon a long argument, which ges of poetry in this “Mystery,” which strongly characterized by the poet's pecufinally appears to convince Cain that God Byron has never surpassed. The scenes liarities, and many have doubted whether is merciless, and that it is a valiant and ex- between Cain and Adah are always beauti- it were his, but there are parts of it which cellent thing to defy him. We will quote ful. She meets him, after Lucifer had left only a poet could have written. The story

is simple enough. A hunchback sells hima part of this dialogue, which may show not him, thus. only the exquisite beauty scattered over Adah. Hush ! tread softly, Cain.

self to the devil for beauty; the “StranCain.

I will; but wherefore ? ger," brings before him the eminent of past the whole, but the character of the dia

Adah. Our little Enoch sleeps upon yon bed logue, that is sustained throughout the

ages, that he may choose whose form to Of leaves, beneath the cypress.

He finally determines to be as poem.


Cypress! 'tis

Achilles was; assumes his form, joins the " Lucifer. Approach the things of earth most O'er what it shadows; wherefore didst thou A gloomy tree, which looks as if it mourn'd

army of Bourbon, and assists in the assault beautiful,

choose it

of Rome. And judge their beauty near. For our child's canopy?

Anthony and Demetrius Poliorcetes are I have done thisCain.

Adah. Because its branches The loveliest thing I know is loveliest nearest,

thus described ; Luc. Then there must be delusion- What is Shut out the sun like night, and therefore seem'd Fitting to shadow slumber.

Arnold. What's here? whose broad brow and that,

Ay, the last-

whose curly beard Which being nearest to thine eyes is stil

And longest; but no matter-lead me to him. And manly aspect look like Hercules,
More beautiful than beauteous things remote?
Cain. My sister Adan.-All the stars of heaven, How lovely he appears ! his little cheeks,

(They go up to the child. Save that his jocund eye hath more of Bacchus

Than the sad Purger of the infernal world,
The deep blue noon of night, lít by an orb
In their pure incarnation, vying with

Leaning dejected on his club of conquest,
Which looks a spirit, or a spirit's world-
The rose leaves strewn beneath them.

As if he knew the worthlessness of those
The hues of twilight-the sun's gorgeous coming-


And his lips, too,

For whom he had fought.
His setting indescribable, which fills
How beautifully parted! No; you shall not

Stranger It was the man who lost
My eyes with pleasant tears as I behold
Kiss him, at least not now: he will awake soon-

The ancient world for love.
Him sink, and feel my heart float softly with him
His hour of mid-day rest is nearly over;

Arnold. I cannot blame him,
Along that western paradise of clouds
But it were pity to disturb him till

Since I have risked my soul because I find not The forest shade-the green bough-the bird's 'Tis closed.

That which he exchanged the earth for. voiceCain, You have said well; I will contain


Since so far The vesper bird's, which seems to sing of love,

My heart till then. He smiles, and sleeps! You seem congenial, will you wear his features ? And mingles with the song of cherubim,

Sleep on

Arnold. No. As you leave me choice, I am difAs the day closes over Eden's walls;And smile, thou little, young inheritor

ficult, All these are nothing, to my eyes and heart, Like Adah's face. I turn from earth and heaven

of a world scarce less young : sleep on, and smile! If but to see the heroes I should ne'er

Thine are the hours and days when both are cheer- Have seen else on this side of the dim shore To gaze on it.

Whence they float back before us.
Luc. 'Tis frail as fair mortality,
And innocent! thou hast not pluck'd the fruit- Stranger.

Hence, Triumvir!
In the first dawn and bloom of young creation
And earliest embraces of earth's parents,

Thou know'st not thou art naked! Mast the time Thy Cleopatra's waiting
Come thou shalt be amerced for sins unknown,

[1'he Shade of Anthony disappears: anoth-
Can make its offspring ; still it is delusion.
Cain. You think so, being not her brother.
Which were not thine nor mine? But now sleep

er rises.) on!


Who is this? Luc. Mortal!

Who truly looketh like a demigod, My brotherhood's with those who have no children. And shining lids are trembling o'er

his long His cheeks are reddening into deeper smiles,

Blooming and bright, with golden hair, and stature, Cain. Then thou canst have no fellowship with Lashes, dark as the cypress which waves o er them; if not more high than mortal, yet immortal

Half open, from beneath them the clear blue In all that nameless bearing of his limbs,
Luc. It may be that thine own shall be for me.
Laughs out, altho' in slumber. He must dream-

Which he wears as the Sun his rays-a something
But if thou dost possess a beautiful
Of what? Of Paradise !-Ay! dream of it,

Which shines from him, and yet is but the flashing Being beyond all beauty in thine eyes, My disinherited boy! 'Tis but a dream;

Emanation of a thing more glorious still.
Why art thou wretched ?

For never more thyself
, thy sons, nor fathers,

Was he e'er human only.
Why do I exist?
Shall walk in that forbidden place of joy!


Let the earth speak, Why art thou wretched? why are all things so? Ev'n he who made us must be, as the maker

Adah. Dear Cain! Nay, do not whisper o'er If there be atoms of him left, or even

Of the more solid gold that formed his urn. of things unhappy! To produce destruction Such melancholy yearnings o'er the past :

Arnold. Who was this glory of makind? Can surely never be the task of joy, Why wilt thou always mourn for Paradise ?


The shame And yet my sire says he's omnipotent: Can we not make another?"

of Greece in peace, her thunderbolt in warThen why is evil-he being good? I ask'd

Demetrius the Macedonian and This question of my father; and he said,

Cain dwells upon the sufferings and des- Taker of cities. Because this evil only was the path

tinies of man until he declares it were better Arnold. Yet one shadow more.
To good. Strange good, that must arise from out
that his child had not been born ; Adab Get thee to Lamia's lap :*

Stranger. (addressing the shadow.)
Its deadly opposite. I lately saw
A lamb stung by a reptile: the poor suckling

answers him. Lay foaming on the earth, beneath the vain

"Adah. Oh, do not say so! Where were then

Achilles, thus. And piteous bleating of its restless dam;


I must commend My father pluck'd some herbs, and laid them to The mother's joys of watching, nourishing, Your choice. The god-like son of the Sea godThe wound; and by degrees the helpless wretch And loving him? Soft! he awakes. Sweet Enoch! dess, Resumed its careless life, and rose to drain

(She goes to the child. The unshorn boy of Peleus, with his locks The mother's milk, who o'er it tremulous

Oh Cain! look on him: see bow full of life, As beautiful and clear as the amber waves Stood licking its reviving limbs with joy.

Of strength, of bloom, of beauty, and of joy, of rich Pactolus rolled o'er sands of gold, Behold, my son! said Adam, how from evil How like to me-how like to thee, when gentle, Softened by intervening chrystal, and Springs good!

For then we are all alike; is't not so, Cain? Rippled like flowing waters by the wind, Luic. What didst thou answer?

Mother, and sire, and son, our features are All yowed to Sperchius as they were-behold them! Cain. • Nothing; for Rellected in each other; as they are

And him-as he stood by Polixena,



our son

the joys

With sanctioned and with softened love, before Book.--I have told you my author knows that occasionally, but which, repulsive as they may be The altar, gazing on his Trojan bride,

you are ; moreover, he foresaw that I should meet to some whom I would fain conciliate, I have not With some remorse within for Hector slain you at this time, in this place, and that we should dared to exclude altogether from a work principally And Priam weeping, mingled with deep passion have such conversation together; for which he pre- intended for intellectual dissipation in leisure For the sweet downcast virgin, whose young hand pared me with the answers already given to your hours. Trembled in his who slew her brother. So very natural inquiries.

* I have done my part to please you; and if you He stood i' the temple ! Look upon him as

Reader.--Humph! no small proof of sagacity! do half as much to be pleased, neither of us will Greece looked her last upon her best, the instant - But how are you sure that I am the person whom have reason to complain. Readers in general are Ere Paris' arrow flow." he had in his mind's eye!'

little aware how much of the entertainment of such " Book.--Only because you can be no other; works depends upon themselves. If you, my gentle

and though you assume a thousand forms, and be friend, are one of these, make the experiment with Prose, by a Poet. 2 vols. 12mo. pp. 411. as many ladies and gentlemen as you please, at my little book: do your best to be delighted with Philadelphia, 1824.

once, or in succession,-indeed, the more the merit; and if there be stars in heaven, or flowers on We believe that Montgomery is supposed the very person, to whom he has sent a direct mesrier for him.--yet are you invariably the person, earth, you shall not lose your labour.'

“So saying, my author dismissed me. I have to be the author of these pleasant little sage by me.

come from his hands to place myself in yours, volumes; they are attributed to him in the ** Reader.-A message !-what is it?

where I lie at your mercy. English journals, and are well worthy of Book.--Why, when he turned me out alone into " Reader.-I will do you justice.” him. Whoever the author may be, he is a the wide world, to seek my fortune,-after twenty vain efforts to write a character for me, in the shape

There is a very pretty and playful “ Life man of fine sense and taste, and an excel- of a preface, which should justify my title, apolo- of a Flower,” narrated in two letters from lent writer. There is infinite variety in gize for my contents, anticipate criticism, and soft- a violet to a lady; we will venture upon a the matter and manner of the pieces ; some en the sternest reviewer into graciousness, he long extract from this autobiography. are humorous, some pathetic, and some ar- dropt his pen on the floor in despair, and with a gumentative; there are tales, allegories, look of forlornness that cast a shade of melancholy "My dear Madam, journals, dialogues, and essays,--all of which the blight of it there still — he took me up in his trived to write its own history. How in the course

over my lightest pages.--I wish you may not find “Do not ask me by what means a flower has conare pretty good, and some very excellent. arms, - I was then in any manuscript or chrysalis of my short life,

one week, five days, nine hours The author says that the different pieces state, and a vast deal more bulky than in my pre- and twenty-three minutes, at this moment, -I learnhave been written at different times, and sent butterfly form, --1 say he took me up in his ed so much of men and things, as to qualify me to principally on private occasions, within the arms, like an affectionate parent, which I assure tell you my little tale in language intelligible to belast ten years; and they are now printed, fear in his heart he loves them.-was there ever you will hear in the sequel. I can assure yon, on

you he is, loving me for my very faults, because Iings so exalted in the scale of creation as you are, because he had accumulated so many of such a zigzag sentence of digressions to make the word of one among innumerable millions of a these miscellanies, that it seemed probable all straight, my author took me up and thus ad- race by whom a lie was never told since Adam a selection might be made which would be dressed me :

plucked the first flower in Paradise,--and that, you acceptable to the public. The preface is *My little Book,

know, was before he was married,--that every syl

"I have done all that I could for you, consistent lable of the following record is as true as that I in the shape of an amusing dialogue be with my incorrigible indolence and constitutional myself ever lived. Who has lent me his pen, as tween the book and the reader.

imbecility. I bave given you a moderate education, amanuensis on this occasion, I shall not tell; for “Reader.- Prose !--so it is; at least the greater to me a very expensive one, and made you as if you are not sufficiently well acquainted with the part of it; and that which looks like verse may be much like myself as such a child ought to be like hand-writing at once to recognise it as that of a the most prosaic of all.

such a father. This, I fear, may be no great recon friend, he has deceived me, or you have deceived " Book. --True; but to make amends, you may mendation; and yet it cannot be quite unavailing, him. I have only to premise further, that if there expect that the prose of a poet will be poetical. since that which is genuine, however humble in its be any thing in my narrative unworthy of a violet,

* Reader. If I thought so, I would fing you kind, will not be entirely unwelcome where it en- or what a violet could not have known, spoken, or into the fire at once; for next to maudlin verse I counters human sympathy. I send you abroad, a done, you will be pleased to attribute it to his ig. hate drunken prose.' Your title, to be sure, is a stranger among strangers; and your success hence norant or impertinent interpolation. little ominous ;-what does it mean?

forward must depend partly upon yourself, but “I do not recollect being born, nor do I remem“ Book.-Every book must have a title, as every chiefly upon a certain personage whom you will ber my parents; for we violets, being only springman must have a name.

meet on your travels to the world's end (and to the flowers, die nine months before our children come Reader.—But the title ought to be significant end of the world, if you can live so long), in as into the world. But this is idle prating; for, to tell of the contents.

many shapes, colours, and sizes, as there are clouds the truth, there are no such things as fathers and " Book.- No more than a man's name need be in the firmament. This person, wherever found, mothers among us : we love ourselves, and our indicative of his character, which, however fash- and under whatever disguise, you will always know posterity are the offspring of self-love ; consequentjonable among savages, could not be tolerated in at tirst sight; for I neea not teach you the signs of ly, there can be no fear of our own issue failing, civil society.

freemasonry between a Book and a Reader: but while this ruling passion is the universal inherit* Reader.-No, indeed; we should soon be all remember, that the latter inust always be addressed ance of all our tribe. The first event that I can savages again, if it were so :--who would choose as 'gentle;' and the more crabbed in reality your call to mind was, the fall of an icicle from the old to be reminded of what he wasma tiger, a bear, or patron appears, the more courteous you must be, oak tree under which I grew, upon my head, when a buffalo, like a wild Indian who glories in the re- both for my sake and your own. Wherefore, it was no bigger than a pin's. The pain of this unsemblance,-every time his name was pronounced? when you come into the presence of this multitu- couth accident was to me the earliest consciousness But it is quite ano her thing with books, which have dinous and ubiquitarian being, say thus from me:- of existence; I was then, according to the best no feelings to be hurt.

"Gentle Reader,

chronology, exactly eight and forty hours old, by “ Book.-But we have characters to lose, and it * Take this Book as a token of sincere esteem the church-clock of our parish, which struck six, would be infatuation to throw them away on the from one whom you may never have known, but A. M. just as the icicle was shaken from a branch outset. Great authors, who ought to be the best who, while invisible as your guardian angel, like above, by the sudden rising on the wing of a crow, judges what to call their offspring, have often given him has long been employed in secret offices of that had roosted on it all night, and who, having them titles which were masks rather than manifes- kindness on your behali

. Believe me, all the time, overslept himself, was startled out of a pleasant tations of their purpose. The Diversions of Pur labour, stuuy, watching, and, if you will allow it, dream, by the report of agun, which farmer Gripe's ley,' - who could expect to be tasked with a game all the talent expended on its composition, were son fired at him over the adjacent hedge. As the at hard words after such a holiday decoy? Take fervently devoted to your service. Though you poor bird lost nothing but the remainder of his nap, the other aspect of this double-faced sphinx- may deem some of these pages too Arifling, others and his tail, which was shot sheer away, he will ""Era stigbeveæ ;' make • winged words' of these, too grave, a tew too florád, and many too dull, yet in not be any worse, or wiser either, for the misadand still, sulai ds concerns the subject (happily | all moods and vagaries of mind, I have had the two- venture ; the feathers will grow again, no doubt; hieroglyphic as they are), they will be · Heathen folt object in view, to amuse if I could, and ben- and so far from profiting by the warning, I saw him Greek, not to the vulgar“ only, but to the learned efit if I might, the goodmatured reader. When I sitting on the very same bough, the day before yesthemselves.

have succeeded in one of these, I cannot bave mis terday, and cawing as if he were king of the re“ Reader.-Yes; but when you have got into canied altogether in the other; for in the wilden gion. This happened on the third of April, 1814; the spirit of the treatise, you will understand the humoura, amiast reveries of egotism, sallies of fancy, I therefore conclude that I must have been born on propriety of the one title, and pardon the affecta- and mazes of description, I have never lost sight of the first, as good a day as can be found in the tion of the other.

soine moral aim, though I have not always placed whole calendar, for the coming forth of a flower. Book. My author asks no more for me and it ostentatiously before your eye:-at the same From the instant that sense and reason were tbus mine.

time, in my most portentous lucubrations, I have awakened in me, I became a quick and diligent ob“ Reader. --Who is your author?

endeavoured to embellish, though I may bare often server of all that passed within me and around, so “ Book.—That is a secret with which you 500, failed to illustrate those solenin and eternal verities far as opportunities were afforded for gratifying my he has not entrusted me. * ***

which I will not say I have rentured to introduce I curiosity and improving my mind. The authentic

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