Sweeps the long tract of day. | Then high she soars
The blue profound, I and hovering round the sun, i
Beholds him pouring the redundant stream
Of light; beholds his unrelenting sway |
Bend the reluctant planets to absolve
The fated rounds of time. | Thence far effused
She darts her swiftness up the long career
Of devious comets :/ thro' its burning signs
Exulting | measures the perennial wheel
Of Nature, I and looks back on all the stars, I
Whose blended light, | as with a milky zone,
Invests the orient. I
Now amazed she views
The empyreal waste, / where happy spirits hold, I
Beyond this concave heaven, I their calm abode; 1
And fields of radiance, whose unfading light |
Has travell’d the profound six thousand years,
Nor yet arrives in sight of mortal things. I
E’en on the barriers of the world untired
She meditates the eternal depth below, !
Till, half recoiling, I down the headlong steep
She plunges; I soon o'erwhelm'd and swallowed up :
In that immense of being. I
There her hopes Rest at the fatal goal : 1 for, from the birth Of mortal man, the sovereign Maker said, That not in humble nor in brief delight, Not in the fading echoes of renown, Power's purple robes, I nor Pleasure's flowery lap, I The soul should find enjoyment ; l but, from these Turning disdainful to an equal good, Thro' all the ascent of things enlarge her view, Till every bound at length should disappear, I And infinite perfection close the scene.
(A CONVERSATIONAL PLEASANTRY.]
(FRANKLIN.) Some wit of old — such wits of old there were, I Whose hints show'd meaning, I whose allusions care, By one brave stroke, i to mark all human kind, i Call'd clear blank paper ev'ry infant mind; 1 Where, still, as opening sense her dictates wrote, I Fair Virtue put a seal, / or Vice, a blot. | The thought was happy, pertinent, and true; / Methinks a genius might the plan pursue. I I (can you pardon my presumption ?), \ I, No wit, no genius, ' yet, for once, will try. I Various the paper, various wants produce ; | The wants of fashion | elegance, I and use. I Men are as various; i and if right I scan, I Each sort of paper i represents some man. I Pray note the fop, I half powder and half lace; 1 Nice, as a band-box were his dwelling place; | He's the gilt-paper, / which apart you store, And lock from vulgar hands in the scrutoire. Mechanics, farmers, servants, and so forth, 1 Are copy-paper, I of inferior worth ; 1 Less priz'd, 1 more useful, I for your desk decreed ; 1 Free to all pens, and prompt at ev'ry need. I The wretch, whom avarice bids to pinch and spare i Starve, cheat, and pilfer, to enrich an heir, 1 Is coarse brown paper, I such as pedlars choose To wrap up wares, which better men will use.' Take next the miser's contrast, who destroys . Health, fame, and fortune, in a round of joys;
• Scrutoire, a case of drawers for writings.
Will any paper match him ? | Yes, throughout ;
He's a true sinking paper, past all doubt. !
The retail politician's anxious thought |
Deems this side always right, I and that stark nought;
He foams with censure; I with applause he raves; 1
A dupe to rumors, | and a tool of knaves; I
He'll want no type his weakness to proclaim,
While such a thing as foolscap has a name. I
The hasty gentleman, whose blood runs high, 1
Who picks a quarrel if you step awry, I
Who can't a jest, a hint, or look, endure; 1
What is he? | What? | Touch-paper to be sure. I
What are our poets, I take them as they fall,
Good, I bad, I rich, 1 poor, i much read, I not read at all?
Them and their works in the same class you 'll find : 1
They are the mere waste-paper of mankind. I
Observe the maiden, I innocently sweet ; /
She's fair white paper, i an unsullied sheet; !
On which the happy man whom fate ordains,
May write his name, I and take her for his pains. I
One instance more,' and only one, I'll bring:1
'Tis the great man who scorns a little thing ; |
Whose thoughts, whose deeds, whose maxims are his
own,
Form'd on the feelings of his heart alone: 1
True, genuine, royal-paper is his breast ; !
Of all the kinds most precious, purest, I best. I
(w. A. VAN VRANKEN.)
On the parch'd plains the tribes of Israel lay, I
Fatigued and sad, I to raging thirst a prey:1
In that lone region, I in that desert drear, 1
No streamlet's murmur stole upon the ear;1
No brook pellucid glanc'd its light along,
To cheer the vision of that fainting throng. I
Nought met the eye / save Horeb's rock that frown'd,
In gloomy grandeur, on the scene around.'
At its broad base, I behold the patriarch stand,
And with his rod, at the Divine command, 1
Smite its dark front : lo'erawed by Power Supreme, /
Its riven breast expellid a copious stream ; !
The new-born waters pour'd their torrents wide, I
And foam'd, and thunder'd, down its craggy side.
At the glad sound each Hebrew mother there
Her infant clasp'd, I and look'd to Heaven a prayer :/
Joy thrillid all hearts; 1 for lo! the sunbeams play,
In radiant glory, on the flashing spray |
That dash'd its crystals o'er the rocky pile, I
A beauteous emblem of Jehovah's smile. I
TIME.
(W. A. VAN VRANKEN.)
My silent and mysterious flight |
Reveals each morn the glorious light |
That gilds the passing year;/
I never stop to rest my wing: 1
Triumphani on the blast I spring - 1
My plumage, dark and sere. I
Onward I speed my flight sublime ; |
Before me withers manhood's prime, I
While pillar, dome, and tower, /
And massy piles, and temples grand, I
Lie crush'd beneath my iron hand - 1
Resistless is my power. I
Remorseless boaster, hold ! | thy wings |
May sweep aside earth's mightiest things,'
Mere creatures of an hour:/
Thou canst not reach the Heavenly bloom, I
Celestial tints, and rich perfume, 1
Of virtue's lovely flower. I
TO THE AMERICAN FLAG.
(DRAKE AND HALLECK.) When freedom from her mountain heighill
Unfurl'd her standard to the air, 1 She tore the azure robe of night,
And set the stars of glory there!! She mingled with its gorgeous dyes The milky baldric of the skies, 1 And striped its pure celestial white, 1 With streakings from the morning light! Then, from his mansion in the sun, i She called her eagle-bearer down, And gave into his mighty hand | The symbol of her chosen land! | Majestic monarch of the cloud ! ||
Who rear'st aloft thy regal form, 1 To hear the tempest trumping loud, 1
And see the lightning lances driven, When strides the warrior of the storm,
And rolls the thunder-drum of heavenli Child of the sun! to thee 't is given !
To guard the banner of the free — 1
To hover in the sulphur smoke,
To ward away the battle-stroke, I
And bid its blendings shine afar, 1
Like rainbows on the cloud of war, 1
The harbinger of victory!
Flag of the brave! | thy folds shall fly,
The sign of hope and triumph high!
When speaks the signal-trumpet's tone, I
And the long line comes gleaming on; 1
Ere yet the life-blood, warm and wet, I
Has dimm'd the glistening bayonet -!
Each soldier's eye shall brightly turn, 1
To where thy meteor glories burn, i
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