To view the spot where lay their country's sire.
To sing his worth the muse has tuned her lyre,
To speak his praise the poets of aspire;
Faint the description, feeble the design,
Should Pindar sing, or Homer trace the line.
The painter's canvass often has been spread,
To draw descriptions of th' illustrious dead,
But far they'd deviate from th' intended line,
Should Raphael's genius sketch the bold design:
Or should Titian his bright colors shed,

Or Guido's graces lavish on his head,
His deeds of valor memory still retains,
Reveres the man who burst a tyrant's chains.
Let other nations of their Cæsars boast,

Of Charles, of Xerxes with his martial host,
Can Macedonia ask the muses' lyre,

While slaughtered millions round her chief expire?
Can Rome and Carthage call her heroes good,
While earth is crimsoned with their soldiers' blood?
Can France exalt the deeds of Bonaparte,

And sing his splendor and his warlike art?
When, see! ah see! her hero rode to fame
O'er seas of blood and mangled heaps of slain.
But fates unseen reined up the mystic car-
Smote Europe's zone and burst Napoleon's star.
And where is he who came from Gallia's shore,
Saw our oppression, heard our cannon roar ;
Who wreathed a chaplet of immortal fame,
And richly won a philanthropic name?

He, too, has gone to join his brave compeers,
Graced with high honors, crowned with many years.
And where areGREEN,MONTGOMERY,LEE andGATEŞ
Who bowed the lion to resistless fates?

They, too, are gone and but a few remain,

Who belped our fathers burst Britannia's chain,
And soon the muffled drum or tolling bell,
Will bid the last a long, a long farewell!

THE POEM.

Ye aged sires! who grace this festive scene,
Who bow to age, and o'er your staves recline,
Review that day, when proud oppression's wand
Extended wide o'er freedom's happy land;
Can you forget the piteous piles of slain
On Bunker's height, or Lexington's broad plain ?
Tell to the youth the stories of our wars,
And plead the merits of our patriots' scars.
Ye patriot band? whofought in days of yore,
And drove the oppressor from our verdant shore,
Long life and health, the sons of freedom cry,
Long life and health, the winds of heaven reply.
When summoned by th' archangel's thrilling call,
On young Elishas may your mantles fall;
May patriot zeal your youthful sons inspire,
And each prove worthy of his honored sire.

45

Rise, Bethlehem's star! beam forth with charms divine,
O'er pagan lands let thy refulgence shine;
Let pure devotion touch the Hindoo's heart,
And from his idols may he soon depart;

From heathen lands may songs of triumph rise,
To Him who built Earth, Oceans, Air and Skies.
May distant islands catch the heavenly flame,
And tawny Indians own Jehovah's name.
Ou wings of faith ye heralds of the cross,
Go and refine the gold from nature's dross ;
Instruct the heathen from the sacred Word,
"Lead them from nature up to nature's God.”

While on this day our cheerful hearts unite,
While songs of joy inspire us with delight;
While liberal laws adorn our happy land,
And pure devotion makes our hearts expand,
Let us review the purchase of our fame,
Our Patriots' honor and our Tories' shame.
Say was our freedom with a trifle bought?

That Patriots bled, say does it matter not?

View Bunker's heights, and Charlestown's flaming spires
View Monmouth's plains, where fell our honored sires;

Then since our land was bought with streams of blood,
Firm let us stand though tyrants round us brood;
Though round us kings their hellish gambols play,
As venomed vipers hiss around their prey,
Let us support the standard of our fame,

Nor sink, like Rome, mid whirlpools of her shame.
Ask, where is Rome, and where her warlike band,
Whose armies spread and conquered every land;
Whose eagle rose and eyed the solar fire,

With talons strong, with wings that never tire,
Whose classic charms inspire us with delight,
Illume the regions of barbaric night.

Ask you the cause why Rome's republic fell?
The cause I'd ask, why Satan did rebel?
Factions burst forth and demagogues arose,
Crushed the fair tree, o'erwhelmed the land in woes.
Thus Rome's republic, which for ages stood,
Fell mid the flames, and sunk in seas of blood.
Ask, where is Carthage, Afric's pride and boast?
When factions rose, her fame and all were lost;
Oceans of blood were spilt along her shore,
And Afric's glory set to rise no more.

And Greece, that land where science shed her rays,
Where heroes fought, where poets tuned their lays,
Was veiled in gloom, and sunk before the blast,
Her fame, her glory, and her grandeur past.

But may that morning soon salute the skies,

When Grecian glory shall again arise,

When Grecian bards shall sing fair freedom's songs,
And independence thunder from their tongues.

*

Columbians, rise— mark well the fatal coast,
Where sunk republics and their glory lost;

*

THE POEM.

And shun those rocks which proved their final doom,
And sunk their fame beneath Egyptian gloom.
Let the last legacy of Washington,

Still be your chart and show the course to run;
And may our helmsman with a steady hand,
Guide safe our bark o'er shoals of rock and sand,
Should civil wars or base contentions rise,
Should haughty tyrants freedom's charms despise,
Ye youthful band, rush, rush into the field,
With sword in hand, and make those despots yield.
Quell your invaders put your foes to flight.
March to the field and breast the deadly fight.
Were Homer's verse familiar to my tongue,
Or had I strains like those which Pindar sung,
And could my voice like Sinai's thunder roar,

47

Fair Freedom's charms should sound from shore to shore,
Till thrones of despots totter to the ground,
And mighty empires tremble at the sound.

And may that God, whose hand the lightnings form,
Who hurls the tempest, who directs the storm;
Who bade the world from nature's embryo rise,
Whose wisdom built, whose fiat starred the skies;
At whose command the nations rise and fall,
Whose will directs, whose power governs all;
May He extend the sceptre of his love,

Our strong defence, our mighty bulwark prove.
Almighty God! protect this favored land,

Guide, guard, and shield it by thy sovereign hand;
While sun's arise, or briny oceans roar,

Or bounding billows lash the rock-bound shore :
Let this Republic ever stand secure,

Till nations cease and time shall be no more."

Certain four-footed, short-legged, taper-nosed, squirrel-tailed, black and white, unsavory creatures, the name of which it would be useless to mention after so minute description, have been frequent

attachees of the barn-yards and houses of the Islanders. They fared so well, became so populous aud formidable, committed such extensive devastations, and withal got at length into such bad odour with the good-hearted, pure-minded people of Edgartown, that a bounty of 25 cents was offered for every one that should be despatched to that 'bourne whence no traveller returns.' They disappeared rapidly and became so rare and seldom troublesome that some were half ready to lament their loss, and almost wished their old and misused friends back again :

πόθος καὶ κακῶν ἄᾖ ἦν τις,

καὶ γὰρ ὅ μηδαμε δή φίλον ἦν φίλον.

[Edipus Tyrannus.] Such persons were conscious of a change, a want. They felt that all was not right, and began to contemplate their violent extermination with emotions. of melancholy regret, similar to those cherished towards the unhappy Indian tribes. These animals differ considerably in their tastes, some conceiving an attachment to private, others to public buildings, some to house-cellars, others to barns, sheds, &c. There is one however whose taste is somewhat different from that of his tribe. His predominant sentiment, or biggest bump is veneration. He has been for years a strong adherent to the church. He has no occasion to repair to its sacred enclosure one day in seven, for he is seldom anywhere else. The undisturbed sanctity of the place seems to have for