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Though sacred the flame which our country enkindles
In every fond heart that for liberty glows;
Yet cold is that breast where uncherish'd it dwindles,
And sad the effect which from apathy flows!
O thou, that wert born in the cot of the peasant,
But diest of languor in luxury's dome,

Whose magic can make e'en the wilderness pleasant,
Where thou art, O Liberty, there is my home.

How blest is the land that can boast independence,
The race who the charter of Freedom have gain'd!
Whose fathers bequeath'd it, and bid their descendants,
Inherit the legacy pure and unstain'd!

That land is Columbia's supremely blest region,

Where Freedom's bright eagle o'ershadows her dome, To watch o'er her rights, and protect her religionHail, Temple of Liberty, thou art my home!

THE FLOWERS OF LIFE.

The ills of LIFE's journey how many complain of,

Who swear not a floweret is found in the road! But the evils they censure I laugh at the pain of, While sweet smiling CHEERFULNESS lightens the load.

Though I find not a rose, I indulge not in sorrow,
But pluck with CONTENTMENT a daisy to-day;
Nay, even a sprig will feed HOPE for to-morrow,
The humblest that nods to the zephyr of May.

Let others dispute, I'll avoid their dissention,
Religious, political, moral, or such;

For the floweret of PEACE thus escapes their attention,
And the sweet bud of PLEASURE which blooms at my touch.

The blossom of FRIENDSHIP, Surviving mortality,

I'll carefully cherish and wear in my breast;

Though its picture may boast brighter hues than reality,
Its fragrance directs me when doubtful the test.

The spirit of feeling, the soul of affection,

Wildly ardent in rapture, and melting in wo,
Whatever its image, attire, or complexion,
With mine shall commingle in sympathy's glow.

I ask not his birth-place, whatever the region,
Hot, temperate, frigid-despotic or free;

I ask not his politics, creed, or religion,

A Turk, Jew, or Christian-he's still dear to me.

But ah! there's a flower which, tho' teeming with nectar,
Beneath its fair aspect screen's MISERY'S dart,

So artfully veil'd that it mocks a detector,

Till press'd to the bosom it pierces the heart.

But still to a bosom susceptibly placid,

The anguish of Love will but heighten its joy;
As the bev'rage uniting a sweet with an acid,
Is grateful, when nectar untemper'd would cloy.

The bramble of AVARICE others may nourish,

Exhausting Life's soil of its virtues and strength; I'll stray where the plants of BENEFICENCE flourish, And the generous vine winds its serpentine length.

Let misers pursue their mean sordid employment,
And hoard up their treasures, for life's latest scenes;
Shall we waste the sweet moments allow'd for enjoyment,
And squander the season in gaining the means?

Lank ENVY and MALICE let others retain 'em,

From all I encounter some good let me gain;

As the bee can sip sweets where the spider draws venom,
And the toad, it is said, wears a pearl in his brain.

Then pluck every blossom of HAPPINESS blooming;
Leave birds of contention and play with the dove;
And our path, soon the flush of enchantment assuming,
Will glow an Elysium of Pleasure and Love.

A KISS.

Does Eliza remember, ere fashion had taught her
To lend the heart's impulse hypocrisy's guise,
How oft, in our plays, to my bosom I caught her,
And wondered a touch could so brighten the eyes?

Familiar to me is the sweet recollection,

How the warmth of her lips taught my visage to glow, While the flush that responsive illumed her complexion, Seem'd roses promiscuously scatter'd on snow.

And I ask'd from what source sprang the feelings which raptured,
And bade through my pulses such extacies roll,
The charm which reflection bewilder'd and captured-
"A Kiss" was the answer-it melted my soul.

SUB-MARINE GROTTO.

This wonderful work of nature was discovered on the Malabar coast, by captain Nixon, of the British ship Apollo. It first presented a large bed of coral, almost even with the surface of the water, which afforded one of the most enchanting prospects in nature. Its base was fixed to the shore, and reached in so far that its end could not be seen, which seemed to be suspended in the water, which deepened so suddenly, that, at the distance of a few yards, there might be seven or eight fathoms depth. The sea was at this time quite unruffled, and the sun, shining bright, exposed the various sorts of coral in the most beautiful order, some parts branching into the water with great luxuriance, others lying collected in round balls, and in a variety of figures, heightened by spangles of the richest colors, that glowed from a number of large crams, which were every where interspersed. It is to be regretted that a work, so stupendously grand, should be concealed in a place where mankind can so seldom have an opportunity of contemplating this astonishing scene.

ZOROASTER'S DEFINITION OF THE SUPREME BEING.

"He is the first of incorruptibles, eternal, and not created; he is not composed of parts; there is nothing like, or equal to him; he is the author of every good, the sovereign disposer of all order, and of all beauty; he cannot be corrupted by presents; he is the father of justice and of equity; he derives his knowledge only from himself; he is the source of all wisdom, and sole author of all nature."

A student in a neighboring university, not many years since, carried a ma nuscript poem, of his own composition, to the professor of languages for his inspection. The professor, after looking it over, demanded the author's rea son for beginning every line with a capital! "Because it is poetry," replied the student. "It is!" says the professor, "I declare I should not have thought it?

History is a theatre on which the politics and morals appear in action. Youth receive from it those first impressions, which, sometimes, are decisive of their future destiny. We must, therefore, present to them the noblest models, and inspire them with the utmost horror for false heroism. Sovereigns and nations may derive from history the most important lessons: the historian, therefore, should be as inflexible as justice, of which he is to maintain the rights; and as sincere as truth, of which he professes himself to be the organ. So august are his functions, that they ought to be exercised only by men of acknowledged integrity, and under the inspection of a tribunal no less severe than that of the Arcopagus. In a word, the utility of history can only be impaired by those who know not how to write it; nor doubted, but by those who know not how to read it.

A noble, amiable, and innocent young lady, who had been chiefly educated in the country, saw her face in the glass, as she passed it with a candle in her hand, retiring from evening prayer, and having just laid down her bible. Her eyes were cast to the ground, with inexpressible modesty, at the sight of her own image. She passed the winter in town, surrounded by adorers, hurried away by dissipation, and plunged in trifling amusement; she forgot her bible and devotion. In the beginning of spring she returned again to her country seat, her chamber and the table on which her bible lay. Again she had her candle in her hand, and again saw herself in the glass. She turned pale, put down the candle, retreated to a sofa, and fell on her knees. "Oh, God! I no longer know my own face. How am I degraded! my follies and vanities are all written in my countenance. Wherefore have they been neglected, illegible, till this instant? Oh! come, and expel; come, and utterly efface them, mild tranquillity, sweet devotion, and ye gentle cares of benevolent love!"

Some years ago, a person requested permission of the bishop of Salisbury to fly from the top of the spire of that cathedral. The good bishop, with an anxious concern for the man's spiritual as well as temporal safety, told him, he was very welcome to fly to the church, but he would encourage no man to fly from it.

SEDUCTION.

How abandoned is that heart which bulges the tear of innocence, and is the cause, the fatal cause of overwhelming the spotless soul, and plunging the yet untainted mind into a sea of sorrow and repentance! Though born to protect the fair, does not man act the part of a demon? first alluring by his temptations, and then triumphing in his victory! When villany gets the ascendency, it seldom leaves the wretch, till it has thoroughly polluted him.

REMARKABLE ANAGRAM.

In the eighteenth chapter of John's gospel, verse 38, Pilate saith unto Jesus, What is truth? which question in the Latin language runs thus: Quid est Veritas? These letters, transposed, make the justest and best answer that could possibly be given to the inquirer, who did not think proper to wait for another, viz. Est vir qui adest; i. e. it is the Man who is present.

This anagram will appear still more remarkable, when it is considered that the Lord came into the world particularly as Divine Truth; and the first words which he uttered after the question was put to him, were the following in the 19th chapter, ver. 5, viz. Behold the Man.

Note. In the English translation these words are by mistake put into the mouth of Pilate; but in the original they are manifestly the words of Jesus; after the crown of thorns was placed on his head, and in the internal sense signify, Behold how the Jewish nation has falsified the Divine Truth of the Word.

VOL, I.

F

.No. 1.

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