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Yet, yet, when Friendship sees thee trace,
In emanating soul express'd,
The sweet memorial of a face

On which her eye delights to rest;

While o'er the lovely look serene,

The smile of peace, the bloom of youth, The cheek, that blushes to be seen,

The eye, that tells the bosom's truth;

While o'er each line, so brightly true,
Her soul with fond attention roves,
Blessing the hand whose various hue
Could imitate the form it loves;

She feels the value of thy art,

And owns it with a purer zeal,

A rapture, nearer to her heart

Than critic taste can ever feel!

THE PHILOSOPHER ARISTIPPUS.'

TO A LAMP WHICH WAS GIVEN HIM BY LAIS.

Dulcis conscia lectuli lucerna.

MARTIAL. lib. xiv. epig. 39.

On! love the Lamp (my mistress said), The faithful lamp that, many a night,

Beside thy Lais' lonely bed

Has kept its little watch of light!

Full often has it seen her weep,
And fix her eye upon its flame,
Till, weary, she has sunk to sleep,
Repeating her beloved's name!

. Oft has it known her cheek to burn
With recollections, fondly free,
And seen her turn, impassion'd turn,
To kiss the pillow, love! for thee,
And, in a murmur, wish thee there,
That kiss to feel, that thought to share!

Then love the Lamp-'t will often lead Thy step through Learning's sacred way; And, lighted by its happy ray, Whene'er those darling eyes shall read

It was not very difficult to become a philosopher amongst the ancients. A moderate store of learning, with a considerable portion of confidence, and wit enough to produce an occasional apophthegm, were all the necessary qualifications for the purpose. The principles of moral science were so very imperfectly understood, that the founder of a new sect, in forming his ethical code, might consult either fancy or temperament, and adapt it to his own passions and propensities; so that Mahomet, with a little more learning, might have flourished as a philosopher in those days, and would have required but the polish of the schools to become th rival of Aristippus, in morality. In the science of nature, too, though they discovered some valuable truths, yet they seemed not to know they were truths, or at least were as well satisfied with errors; and Xenophanes, who asserted that the stars were igneous clouds, lighted up every night and extinguished again in the morning, was thought and styled a philosopher, as generally as he who anticipated Newton in developing the arrangement of the universe.

For this opinion of Xenophanes, see PLUTARCH. de Placit, Philos. lib. ii, cap. 13. It is impossible to read this treatise of Plutarch without alternately admiring and smiling at the genius, the absurdities of the philosophers.

Of things sublime, of Nature's birth,
Of all that's bright in heaven or earth,
Oh! think that she, by whom 't was given,
Adores thee more than earth or heaven!»

Yes, dearest Lamp! by every charm

On which thy midnight beam has hung;' The neck reclined, the graceful arm

Across the brow of ivory flung;

The heaving bosom, partly hid,

The sever'd lips' delicious sighs, The fringe, that from the snowy lid Along the check of roses lies:

By these, by all that bloom untold,
And long as all shall charm my heart,

I'll love my little Lamp of gold,
My Lamp and I shall never part!

And often, as she smiling said,

In fancy's hour, thy gentle rays Shall guide my visionary tread

Through poesy's enchanting maze!

Thy flame shall light the page refined,

Where still we catch the Chian's breath, Where still the bard, though cold in death, Has left his burning soul behind!

Or, o'er thy humbler legend shine,

3

Oh man of Ascra's dreary glades! ❜ To whom the nightly-warbling Nine 3

A wand of inspiration gave,4

Pluck'd from the greenest tree that shades

The Chrystal of Castalia's wave. Then, turning to a purer lore, We'll cull the sages' heavenly store, From Science steal her golden clue, And every mystic path pursue, Where Nature, far from vulgar eyes, Through labyrinths of wonder flies!

"T is thus my heart shall learn to know The passing world's precarious flight, Where all that meets the morning glow Is changed before the fall of night!5

I'll tell thee, as I trim thy fire,

Swift, swift the tide of being runs,

The ancients had their lacernæ cubiculariæ, or bed-chamber lamps, which, as the Emperor GALIENUS said, « nil cras meminere :» and with the same commendation of secresy, Praxagora addresses her lamp, in ARISTOPHANES, Exxλ75. We may judge how fanciful they were in the use and embellishment of their lamps, from the famous symbolic Lucerna which we find in the Romanum Museum MICH. ANG. CAUSEI, p. 127.

2 HESIOD, who tells us in melancholy terms of his father's flight to the wretched village of Ascra. Epy. xxι 'Hμep. v. 251. 3 Εννυχίαι ςείχον, περικαλλέα όσσαν ιείται.--Theog.

V. 10.

4 και μοι σκήπτρον εδόν, δαφνης εριθήλεα οζον. Id. v. 30.

5 Ρειν τα όλα ποταμού δίκην, as expressed among the dogmas of HERACLITUS the Ephesian, and with the same image by SENECA, in whom we find a beautiful diffusion of the thought:

Nemo est mane qui fuit pridie. Corpora nostra rapiuntur fluminum more; quicquid vides currit cum tempore. Nihil ex his quæ videmus manet. Ego ipse, dum loquor mutari ipsa, mutatus sum, » etc.

And Time, who bids thy flame expire, Will also quench yon heaven of suns!»

Oh then, if earth's united power
Can never chain one feathery hour;
If every print we leave to-day
To-morrow's wave shall steal away;
Who pauses to inquire of Heaven
Why were the fleeting treasures given,
The sunny days, the shady nights,
And all their brief but dear delights,
Which Heaven has made for man to use,
And man should think it guilt to lose?
Who that has cull'd a weeping rose
Will ask it why it breathes and glows,
Unmindful of the blushing ray
In which it shines its soul away;
Unmindful of the scented sigh
On which it dies, and loves to die?

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ARISTIPPUS considered motion as the principle of happiness, in which idea he differed from the Epicureans, who looked to a state of repose as the only true voluptuousness, and avoided even the too lively agitations of pleasure, as a violent and ungraceful derangement of the senses.

2 MAUPERTUIS has been still more explicit than this philosopher, in ranking the pleasures of sense above the sublimest pursuits of wise dom. Speaking of the infant man, in his production, he calls him une nouvelle créature, qui pourra comprendre les choses les plus sublimes, et ce qui est bien au-dessus, qui pourra goûter les mêmes plaisirs. See his Vénus Physique. This appears to be one of the efforts at Fontenelle's gallantry of manner, for which the learned President is so well ridiculed in the Akakia of VOLTAIRE.

MAUPERTUIS may be thought to have borrowed from the ancient ARISTIPPUS that indiscriminate theory of pleasures which he has set forth in his Essai do Philosophie Morale, and for which he was so very justly condemned. ARISTIPPUS, according to LAERTIUS, held μη διαφέρειν τε ήδονην ήδονης, which irrational sentiment has been adopted by MAUPERTUIS: Tant qu'on ne considère que l'état present, tous les plaisirs sont du même genre, etc. etc.

Till o'er her cheek she thrilling feel My sighs of fire in murmurs steal, And I shall lift the locks that flow Unbraided o'er her lids of snow, And softly kiss those scaled eyes, And wake her into sweet surprise!

Or if she dream, oh! let her dream

Of those delights we both have known, And felt so truly, that they seem

Form'd to be felt by us alone!
And I shall mark her kindling cheek,
Shall see her bosom warmly move,
And hear her faintly, lowly speak

The murmur'd sounds so dear to love!

Oh I shall gaze till even the sigh
That wafts her very soul be nigh,
And, when the nymph is all but blest,
Sink in her arms and share the rest!
Sweet Lais! what an age of bliss

In that one moment waits for me! Oh sages!-think on joy like this, And where's your boast of apathy?

TO MRS BL-H-D.

WRITTEN IN HER ALBUM.

Τούτο δε τι εστι το ποτον ; πλάνη, έφη. Cebetis Tabula.

THEY say that Love had once a book

(The urchin likes to copy you), Where all who came the pencil took, And wrote, like us, a line or two.

"T was Innocence, the maid divine,

Who kept this volume bright and fair, And saw that no unhallow'd line,

Or thought profane, should enter there.

And sweetly did the pages fill

With fond device and loving lore, And every leaf she turn'd was still

More bright than that she turn'd before!

Beneath the touch of Hope, how soft,

How light the magic pencil ran! Till Fear would come, alas! as oft,

And trembling close what Hope began.

A tear or two had dropp'd from Grief,
And Jealousy would, now and then,
Ruffle in haste some snowy leaf,

Which Love had still to smooth again!

But, oh! there was a blooming boy,

Who often turn'd the pages o'er, And wrote therein such words of joy, As all who read still sigh'd for more!

And Pleasure was this spirit's name,

And though so soft his voice and look, Yet Innocence, whene'er he came, Would tremble for her spotless book!

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Where blest he wooes some black Aspasia's grace, And dreams of freedom in his slave's embrace!

In fancy now beneath the twilight gloom,
Come, let me lead thee o'er this modern Rome! 2
Where tribunes rule, where dusky Davi bow,
And what was Goose-Creek once is Tiber now!3-
This famed metropolis, where Fancy sees
Squares in morasses, obelisks in trees;
Which travelling fools and gazetteers adorn
With shrines unbuilt and heroes yet unborn,
Though nought but wood 4 and
they see,
Where streets should run, and sages ought to be!

And look, how soft in yonder radiant wave, The dying sun prepares his golden grave!— Oh great Potowmac! oh you banks of shade! You mighty scenes, in Nature's morning made, While still, in rich magnificence of prime, She pour'd her wonders, lavishly sublime,

Nor yet had learned to stoop, with humbler care,
From grand to soft, from wonderful to fair!
Say, were your towering hills, your boundless floods,
Your rich savannas and majestic woods,
Where bards should meditate and heroes rove,
And woman charm and man deserve her love!
Oh! was a world so bright but born to grace
Its own half-organized, half-minded race 5
Of weak barbarians, swarming o'er its breast,
Like vermin gender'd on the lion's crest?

The black Aspasia of the present ********* of the United States, inter Avernales haud ignotissima nymphas, has given rise to much pleasantry among the anti-democrat wits in America.

On the original location of the ground now allotted for the seat of the Federal City (says Mr WELD), the identical spot on which the capitol now stands was called Rome. This anecdote is related by many as a certain prognostic of the future magnificence of this city, which is to be, as it were, a second Rome.-WELD's Travels, letter iv.

A little stream runs through the city, which, with intolerable affectation, they have styled the Tiber. It was originally called GooseCreek.

To be under the necessity of going through a deep wood for one or two miles, perhaps, in order to see a next-door neighbour, and in the same city, is a curious and I believea novel circumstance.» -WELD, letter iv.

The Federal City (if it must be called a city) has not been much increased since Mr Weld visited it. Most of the public buildings which were then in some degree of forwardness, have been since utterly suspended. The Hotel is already a ruin; a great part of its roof has fallen in, and the rooms are left to be occupied gratuitously by the miserable Scotch and Irish emigrants. The President's house, a very noble structure, is by no means suited to the philosophical humility of its present possessor, who inhabits but a corner of the mansion himself, and abandons the rest to a state of uncleanly desolation, which those who are not philosophers cannot look at without regret. This grand edifice is encircled by a very rude pale, through which a common rustic stile introduces the visitors of the first man in America. With respect to all that is within the house, I shall imitate the prudent forbearance of Herodotus, and say, τα δε εν απορρητα. The private buildings exhibit the same characteristic display of arrogant speculation and premature ruin; and the few ranges of houses which were begun some years ago, bave remained so long waste and unfinished, that they are now for the most part dilapidated.

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The picture which BUFFON and DE PAUW have drawn of the American Indian, though very humiliating, is, as far as I can judge, much more correct than the flattering representations which Mr JEFFERSON has given us. See the Notes on Virginia, where this gentleman endeavours to disprove in general the opinion maintained strongly by some philosophers, that nature (as Mr JEFFERSON expresses it) belittles her productions in the western world. M. DE PAUW attributes the imperfections of animal life in America to the ravages of a very recent deluge, from whose effects upon its soil and atmosphere it has not yet sufficiently recovered.-See his Recherches sur les Américains, part. i, tom. i, p. 102.

Were none but brutes to call that soil their home,
Where none but demi-gods should dare to roam?
Or, worse, thou mighty world! oh! doubly worse,
Did Heaven design thy lordly land to nurse
The motley dregs of every distant clime,
Each blast of anarchy and taint of crime

Which Europe shakes from her perturbed sphere,
In full malignity to rankle here?

But hush!-observe that little mount of pines,
Where the breeze murmurs and the fire-fly shines,
There let thy fancy raise, in bold relief,

The sculptured image of that veteran chief,1
Who lost the rebel's in the hero's name,
And stepp'd o'er prostrate loyalty to fame;
Beneath whose sword Columbia's patriot train
Cast off their monarch, that their mob might reign!

How shall we rank thee upon Glory's page?
Thou more than soldier and just less than sage!
Too form'd for peace to act a conqueror's part,
Too train'd in camps to learn a statesman's art,
Nature design'd thee for a hero's mould,
But, ere she cast thee, let the stuff grow cold!

While warmer souls command, nay, make their fate,
Thy fate made thee and forced thee to be great.
Yet Fortune, who so oft, so blindly sheds
Her brightest halo round the weakest heads,
Found thee undazzled, tranquil as before,
Proud to be useful, scorning to be more;
Less prompt at glory's than at duty's claim,-
Renown the meed, but self-applause the aim;
All thou hast been reflects less fame on thee,
Far less, than all thou hast forborne to be!

Now turn thine eye where faint the moonlight falls
On yonder dome-and in those princely halls,
If thou canst hate, as, oh! that soul must hate,
Which loves the virtuous and reveres the great,
If thou canst loathe and execrate with me
That Gallic garbage of philosophy,
That nauseous slaver of these frantic times,
With which false liberty dilutes her crimes!
If thou hast got, within thy free-born breast,
One pulse that beats more proudly than the rest,
With honest scorn for that inglorious soul
Which creeps and winds, beneath a mob's control,
Which courts the rabble's smile, the rabble's nod,
And makes, like Egypt, every beast its god!
There, in those walls-but, burning tongue, forbear!
Rank must be reverenced, even the rank that's there:
So here I pause-and now, my Hume! we part;
But oh! full oft in magic dreams of heart,
Thus let us meet, and mingle converse dear
By Thames at home, or by Potowmac here!

O'er lake and marsh, through fevers and through fogs,
Midst bears and yankees, democrats and frogs,
Thy foot shall follow me, thy heart and eyes
With me shall wonder, and with me despise! 2

On a small hill near the capitol, there is to be an equestrian staLue of General Washington.

In the ferment which the French revolution excited among the democrats of America, and the licentious sympathy with which they shared in the wildest excesses of jacobinism, we may find one source of that vulgarity of vice, that hostility to all the graces of life, which distinguishes the present demagogues of the United States, and bas

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Oh Nature! though blessed and bright are thy rays,
O'er the brow of creation enchantingly thrown,
Yet faint are they all to the lustre that plays

In a smile from the heart that is dearly our own! become indeed too generally the characteristic of their countrymen. -But there is another cause of the corruption of private morals, which, encouraged as it is by the government, and identified with the interests of the community, seems to threaten the decay of all honest principle in America. I allude to those fraudulent violations of neutrality to which they are indebted for the most lucrative part of their commerce, and by which they have so long infringed and counteracted the maritime rights and advantages of this country. This unwarrantable trade is necessarily abetted by such a system of collusion, imposture, and perjury, as cannot fail to spread rapid contamination around it.

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With a bright meteor-braid,

Which, like an ever-springing wreath of vine,
Shot into brilliant leafy shapes,
And o'er his brow in lambent tendrils play'd!
While 'mid the foliage hung,
Like lucid grapes,

A thousand clustering blooms of light,
Cull'd from the gardens of the galaxy!
Upon his bosom Cytherea's head

When at home he shall talk of the toil he has known, Lay lovely, as when first the Syrens sung

To tell, with a sigh, what endearments he met,

As he stray'd by the wave of the Schuylkill alone!

THE FALL OF HEBE.

A DYTHYRAMBIC ODE. I

"T WAS on a day

When the immortals at their banquet lay;

Though I call this a Dithyrambic Ode, I cannot presume to say that it possesses, in any degree, the characteristics of that species of poetry. The nature of the ancient Dithyrambic is very imperfectly known. According to M. BURETTE, a licentious irregularity of metre, an extravagant research of thought and expression, and a rude embarrassed construction, are among its most distinguishing features. He adds, Ces caractères des dityrambes se font sentir à ceux qui lisent attentivement les Odes de Pindare.- Mémoires de l'Acad. vol. | 1. p. 306. And the same opinion may be collected from SCHMIDT'S Dissertation upon the subject. But I think, if the Dithyrambics of Pindar were in our possession, we should find that, however wild and fanciful, they were by no means the tasteless jargon they are represted, and that even their irregularity was what BOILEAU calls « un beau désordre. CRIABRERA, who has been styled the Pindar of Italy, and from whom all its poetry upon the Greek model was called Chiaibreresco (as CRESCIMBENI informs us, lib. i, cap. 12) has given, amongst his Vendemmie, a Dithyrambic, « all' uso de' Greci:» it is fail of those compound epithets which, we are told, were a chief character of the style (σύνθετους δε λέξεις εποιουν. SUID. Arfupzubodio.); such as

Briglindorato Pegaso Nubicalpestator.

Bat I cannot suppose that Pindar, even amidst all the license of dithyrambics, would ever have descended to ballad-language like the following:

Bella Filli, e bella Clori

Non più dar pregio a tue bellezze e taci,

Che se Bacco fa vezzi alle mie labbra

Fo le fiche a vostri baci.

esser vorrei Coppier,

E se troppo desiro

Deb fossi io Bottiglier.

Rime del CHIABRERA, part. ii, p. 352.

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This is a Platonic fancy; the philosopher supposes, in his Timaus that, when the Deity had formed the soul of the world, he proceeded to the composition of other souls; in which process, says PLATO, he made use of the same cup, though the ingredients be mingled were not quite so pure as for the former; and having refined the mixture with a little of his own essence, he distributed it among the stars, which served as reservoirs of the fluid. Taur' etme

και πάλιν επι τον πρότερον κρατήρα εν ᾧ την του παντος ψυχην κεραννυς έμισγς, κ. τ. λ.

2 We learn from THEOPHRASTUS, that the roses of Cyrene were particularly fragrant. Ευοσμοτατα τα δε τα εν Κυρήνη ρόδα.

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