bly "The Wild Honeysuckle," "The Address of April to May," and "The Indian Burying Ground." Freneau was particularly successful in his poems of Indian tradition, and both Campbell and Scott were indebted to him for words, ideas and suggestions.

THE OLD INDIAN BURYING-GROUND.

In spite of all the learned have said
I still my old opinion keep;
The posture that we give the dead
Points out the soul's eternal sleep.

Not so the ancients of these lands;-
The Indian, when from life released,
Again is seated with his friends,

And shares again the joyous feast.

His imaged birds, and painted bowl,
And ven'son, for a journey drest,
Bespeak the nature of the soul,-
Activity, that wants no rest.

His bow for action ready bent,
And arrows with a head of bone,
Can only mean that life is spent,
And not the finer essence gone.

Thou stranger, that shalt come this way,
No fraud upon the dead commit,
Yet mark the swelling turf, and say,
They do not lie, but here they sit.

Here still a lofty rock remains,

On which the curious eye may trace (Now wasted half by wearing rains) The fancies of a ruder race.

Here still an aged elm aspires,

Beneath whose far-projecting shade
(And which the shepherd still admires)
The children of the forest played.

There oft a restless Indian queen,

(Pale Marian, with her braided hair)

And many a barbarous form is seen
To chide the man that lingers there.

By midnight moons, o'er moistening dews,
In vestments for the chase arrayed,
The hunter still the deer pursues,

The hunter and the deer-a shade.

And long shall timorous Fancy see

The painted chief, and pointed spear,
And reason's self shall bow the knee
To shadows and delusions here.

THE EARLY NEW ENGLANDERS.

THESE exiles were formed in a whimsical mould,
And were awed by their priests like the Hebrews of old,
Disclaimed all pretenses to jesting and laughter,
And sighed their lives through to be happy hereafter.
On a crown immaterial their hearts were intent,
They looked toward Zion, wherever they went,
Did all things in hopes of a future reward,
And worried mankind-for the sake of the Lord.
A stove in their churches, or pews lined with green,
Where, horrid to think of, much less to be seen;
Their bodies were warmed with the linings of love,
And the fire was sufficient that flashed from above. .
On Sundays their faces were dark as a cloud;

The road to the meeting was only allowed;

And those they caught rambling on business or pleasure Were sent to the stocks, to repent at their leisure.

This day was the mournfulest day of the week;

Except on religion none ventured to speak;

This day was the day to examine their lives,

To clear off old scores, and to preach to their wives.
This beautiful system of Nature below
They neither considered, nor wanted to know,
And called it a dog-house wherein they were pent,
Unworthy themselves and their mighty descent.
They never perceived that in Nature's wide plan
There must be that whimsical creature called Man-
Far short of the rank he affects to attain,

Yet a link, in its place, in creation's vast chain.

Thus feuds and vexations distracted their reign-
And perhaps a few vestiges still may remain ;-
But time has presented an offspring as bold,
Less free to believe, and more wise than the old.
Proud, rough, independent, undaunted and free,
And patient of hardships, their task is the sea;
Their country too barren their wish to attain,
They make up the loss by exploring the main.
Wherever bright Phoebus awakens the gales,
I see the bold Yankees expanding their sails,
Throughout the wide ocean pursuing their schemes,
And chasing the whales on its uttermost streams.
No climate for them is too cold or too warm;
They reef the broad canvas, and fight with the storm;
In war with the foremost their standards display,
Or glut the loud cannon with death for the fray.
No valor in fable their valor exceeds;

Their spirits are fitted for desperate deeds;
No rivals have they in our annals of fame,
Or, if they are rivaled, 'tis York has the claim.

TIMOTHY DWIGHT.

TIMOTHY DWIGHT, the first and most famous of an illus. trious family of New England educators and theologians, was the friend of Trumbull. He was born in Massachusetts in 1752, and died in New Haven in 1817, having been President of Yale College for twenty-two years. His poems, "The Conquest of Canaan," "The Triumph of Infidelity," and "Greenfield Hill," were approved by his generation as moral and graceful, but are now altogether neglected. His "Theology Explained and Defended," in which he exhibited a moderate Calvinism, was still more widely circulated in the United States. His "Travels in New England and New York" contains much historical, statistical and topographical information, but is now chiefly notable for its record of American society and manners in the beginning of the nineteenth century.

49

COLUMBIA.

COLUMBIA, Columbia, to glory arise,

The queen of the world, and the child of the skies!
Thy genius commands thee; with rapture behold,
While ages on ages thy splendors unfold.
Thy reign is the last, and the noblest of time,
Most fruitful thy soil, most inviting thy clime;
Let the crimes of the East ne'er encrimson thy name,
Be Freedom, and Science, and Virtue, thy fame.

To conquest and slaughter let Europe aspire:
Whelm nations in blood, and wrap cities in fire;
Thy heroes the rights of mankind shall defend,
And triumph pursue them, and glory attend.
A world is thy realm: for a world be thy laws
Enlarged as thine empire, and just as thy cause;
On Freedom's broad basis, that empire shall rise,
Extend with the main, and dissolve with the skies,

Fair Science her gates to thy sons shall unbar,
And the east see thy morn hide the beams of her star.
New bards and new sages unrivaled shall soar
To fame unextinguished when time is no more;
To thee, the last refuge of virtue designed,
Shall fly from all nations the best of mankind;
Here, grateful to Heaven, with transport shall bring
Their incense, more fragrant than odors of spring.

Thus, as down a lone valley, with cedars o'erspread,
From war's dread confusion I pensively strayed,
The gloom from the face of fair heaven retired;
The winds ceased to murmur; the thunder expired;
Perfumes, as of Eden, flowed sweetly along,
And a voice, as of angels, enchantingly sung;
"Columbia, Columbia, to glory arise,

The queen of the world, and the child of the skies!"

IX-4

THE pioneer American novelist was Charles

Brockden Brown, who was born in Phil. adelphia in 1771, and died there of consumption, at the age of thirty-nine. He was a man of good family and well educated, and was trained as a lawyer; but quiet, sickly and retiring, he preferred literature to the bar, and after an ingenious speculation, called "Alcuin: A Dialogue on the Rights of Women," he poured forth several political pamphlets, minor poems, tales and biographical essays. In addition to other literary work, he published a series of novels, five of them being written in three years, and all of them before he was thirty. He also edited and was the chief contributor to three successive literary magazines.

Brown was the first American writer to obtain a European celebrity. His romances were eagerly devoured, and the criticisms of the time awarded him a high place in literature. He was no traveler, his longest journeys being from Philadelphia to New York, but he read voraciously, and, in particular, he seems to have assimilated the English novels of the time. Those were the fear-inspiring and blood-curdling romances of Mrs. Radcliffe and "Monk" Lewis, and Brown imported their whole apparatus of thrilling mysteries from the ghostly castles and cloisters of Europe to the plain brick or wooden dwellings of what had just been the colonies. When the mysteries refused to be so "cribbed, cabined and confined," Brown built them a summer house or two, near at hand, on a height, beside a precipice, above a darkly rolling river. As for the appropriate accessories, they are all here, -spooks, unaccountable voices, midnight intruders, the