But, lo! the warrior's eye grew dim,

His arm was left alone;

The still, bleak wilds which sheltered him,
No longer were his own!

Time fled; and on the hallowed ground

His highest pine lies low;

And cities swell where forests frowned,
TWO HUNDRED YEARS AGO!

Oh! stay not to recount the tale;
'Twas bloody, and 't is past;

The firmest cheek might well grow pale,
To hear it to the last.

The God of heaven, who prospers us,

Could bid a nation grow,

And shield us from the red man's curse,
TWO HUNDRED YEARS AGO!

Come, then, great shades of glorious men,
From your still glorious grave!
Look on your own proud land again,

O bravest of the brave!

We call you from each moldering tomb,
And each blue wave below,

To bless the world ye snatched from doom,
TWO HUNDRED YEARS AGO!

FROM MELLEN.

CLXI.-RICH AND POOR.

I SEE, in those vehicles which carry to the people sentiments from high places, plain declarations that the present controversy is but a strife between one part of the community and another. I hear it boasted as the unfailing security, the solid ground, never to be shaken, on which recent measures rest, that the poor naturally hate the rich.

I know that, under the shade of the roofs of the Capitol, within the last twenty-four hours, among men sent here to devise means for the public safety and the public good, it has been vaunted forth, as matter of boast and triumph, that one cause existed, powerful enough to sup

port everything and to defend everything, and that was,the natural hatred of the poor to the rich.

I pronounce the author of such sentiments to be guilty of attempting a detestable fraud on the community; a double fraud; a fraud which is to cheat men out of their understandings.

"The natural hatred of the poor to the rich!" It shall not be till the last moment of my existence; it shall be only when I am drawn to the verge of oblivion, when I shall cease to have respect or affection for anything on earth, that I will believe the people of the United States capable of being effectually deluded, cajoled, and driven about in herds, by such abominable frauds as this.

If they shall sink to that point, if they so far cease to be men, thinking men, intelligent men, as to yield to such pretenses and such clamor, they will be slaves already; slaves to their own passions, slaves to the fraud and knavery of pretended friends. They will deserve to be blotted out of all the records of freedom. They ought not to dishonor the cause of self-government, by attempting any longer to exercise it. They ought to keep their unworthy hands entirely off from the cause of republican liberty, if they are capable of being the victims of artifices so shallow; of tricks so stale, so threadbare, so often practiced, so much worn out, on serfs and slaves.

"The

“The natural hatred of the poor against the rich!" danger of a moneyed aristocracy! A power as great and dangerous as that resisted by the Revolution!" "A call to a new Declaration of Independence!"

I admonish the people against the objects of outcries like these. I admonish every industrious laborer in the country to be on his guard against such delusions. I tell him the attempt is to play off his passions against his interests, and to prevail on him, in the name of liberty, to destroy all the fruits of liberty; in the name of patriotism, to injure and afflict his country; and in the name of his own independence, to destroy that very independence, and make him a beygar and a slave! FROM WEBSTER.

CLXII.-NATURE AND ART.

ALTHOUGH the rich deride, the proud disdain,
The simple blessings of the lowly train;
To me more dear, congenial to my heart,
One native charm than all the gloss of art.
Spontaneous joys, where nature has its play,
The soul adopts, and owns their first-born sway.
Lightly they frolic o'er the vacant mind,
Unenvied, unmolested, unconfined.

But the long pomp, the midnight masquerade,
With all the freaks of wanton wealth arrayed,
In these, ere triflers half their wish obtain,
The toiling pleasure sickens into pain;
And e'en while fashion's brightest arts decoy,
The heart, distrusting, asks if this be joy.

Ye friends to truth, ye statesmen, who survey
The rich man's joys increase, the poor's decay,
'Tis yours to judge how wide the limits stand
Between a splendid and a happy land.
Proud swells the tide with loads of freighted ore,
And shouting folly hails them from her shore.
Hoards e'en beyond the miser's wish abound,
And rich men flock from all the world around.
Yet count our gains. This wealth is but a name,
That leaves our useful products still the same.

Not so the loss. The man of wealth and pride
Takes up the space that many poor supplied ;
Space for his lake, his park's extended bounds,
Space for his horses, equipage, and hounds.
The robe that wraps his limbs in silken sloth
Has robbed the neighboring fields of half their growth.

His seat, where solitary sports are seen,
Indignant spurns the cottage from the green;
Around the world each needful product flies,
For all the luxuries the world supplies,
While thus the land, adorned for pleasure all,
In barren splendor feebly waits the fall.

As some fair female, unadorned and plain,
Secure to please while youth confirms her reign,
NEW EC. S.-24

Slights every borrowed charm that dress supplies,
Nor shares with art the triumph of her eyes.
But when those charms are past-for charms are frail-
When time advances, and when lovers fail,
She then shines forth, solicitous to bless,
In all the glaring impotence of dress.

Thus fares the land by luxury betrayed,
In nature's simplest charms, at first, arrayed;
But, verging to decline, its splendors rise,
Its vistas strike, its palaces surprise;
While, scourged by famine, from the smiling land,
The mournful peasant leads his humble band;
And while he sinks, without one arm to save,
The country blooms-a garden and a grave.

FROM GOLDSMITH.

CLXIII.-CRUELTY.

I WOULD not enter on my list of friends,

(Though graced with polished manners and fine sense, Yet wanting sensibility,) the man

Who needlessly sets foot upon a worm.
An inadvertent step may crush the snail,
That crawls at evening in the public path;
But he that has humanity, forewarned,
Will tread aside, and let the reptile live.

The creeping vermin, loathsome to the sight,
And charged perhaps, with venom, that intrudes
A visiter unwelcome into scenes,

Sacred to neatness and repose, the alcove,
The chamber, or refectory, may die.

A necessary act incurs no blame.

Not so, when held within their proper bounds,
And guiltless of offense they range the air,
Or take their pastime in the spacious field.
There, they are privileged. And he that hurts
Or harms them there, is guilty of a wrong;
Disturbs the economy of nature's realm,
Who, when she formed, designed them an abode.

The sum is this. If man's convenience, health,
Or safety interfere, his rights and claims

Are paramount, and must extinguish theirs.
Else they are all, the meanest things that are,
As free to live and to enjoy that life,

As God was free to form them at the first,
Who in his sovereign wisdom made them all.
Ye, therefore, who love mercy, teach your sons
To love it too.

The spring time of our years

Is soon dishonored and defiled, in most,
By budding ills, that ask a prudent hand
To check them. But, alas! none sooner shoots,
If unrestrained, into luxuriant growth,
Than cruelty, most devilish of them all.
Mercy to him that shows it, is the rule
And righteous limitation of its act,

By which Heaven moves in pard'ning guilty man;
And he that shows none, being ripe in years,
And conscious of the outrage he commits,

Shall seek it, and not find it in his turn.

FROM COWPER.

CLXIV. ROBIN ROUGHHEAD.-SCENE I.

(Enter Snacks, with a letter in his hand.)

Snacks. A letter for me by express! What can it be about? Let me see what it says. (Reads.) "Sir. This is to inform - - Lord Lackwit died-an heir to his estateson called Robin Roughhead-legal heir-put him in immediate possession."

Here's a catastrophe! Robin Roughhead a lord! My stewardship has done pretty well for me, but I think I shall make it do better now. I know this Robin very well. He's over-cunning, I am afraid. But I'll tickle him. He shall marry my daughter. Then I can do as I please. I will go and tell him the news. How unfortunate that I Idid not make friends with him before. He has no great reason to like me. I never gave him any thing but hard words. (Exit.)