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country are most frequently to be It has been said of a fine woman, that found writing for them—is no com- nobody could ever recollect how she mon praise.
was dressed ; and provided that our He remains editor of that paper to author can manage to fill our mind this day. His literary works are, with his thoughts, facts, or doctrine, (other than a world of miscellany, to most of us will consent, perhaps, to be found in the journals and newspa- forego the words pers,) a poem, called Noah ; a Histo His Noah is a sad mixture of affectry of the American Revolution, of ed simplicity-boyish combinationswhich he wrote nothing but the outrageous poetry-and real genius. preface, which, I am certain, does not A short specimen will show his whole exceed three pages ;
Lewis and character, and conclude our sketch: Clarke's Tour,(a compilation--and He is describing Noah's Vision :nothing more. Yet Mr. Jefferson has (From Elisha, in 2d Kings.) placed him at the head of the Ameri
“ Scarce had he spoke, when, with a sudden start, can literati.
And wild, unusual throbbings of the heart, Mr. Allen is a showy, eloquent He turn’d around him oft a fearful gaze, prose-writer-who never thinks, and, Like one bewilderd in a dread amaze : if he can help it, never reasons.
His What mean,' he cried, 'these sharpen'd points of language is often surprisingly beauti
flame, ful, and as often surprisingly low and
That move in rapid circles round my frame?
Now, they extend, a line of lengthen'd light; common-place, without significance. And now-they flash promiscuous on the sight! He has been somehow or other made What mean those nodding plumes, that round me sensible of the prodigious power in a colloquial style—a familiar, frank, Those shining helms !–magnificent and clear,
And give their splendours to the golden sun ? bold, off-hand way of saying things; That thus alternate beam and disappear ! and he is continually balancing be- What mean these coursers standing half reveal'd, tween his natural style, which is rich, The other half to human eye conceald ? barmonious, lofty, and full of picture Now they emerge! and now they shake their —and this of the powerful, simple,
And blazing chariots follow in their trains ; and unpretending kind, for which he
I see a guard of glory round me stand, is utterly disqualified_until the most Horsemen and chariots form a flaming band ; ludicrous combinations are perpetual- Proudly the steeds of such immortal birth ly occurring to startle or provoke the Fret on the rein, and scornful stamp the earth! reader.
They pant their native element to share,
And trample with their hoofs the fields of air; Mr. Allen is a man of uncommon Could ye but see the congregation nigh, genius—but no industry (except that The brightest sunbeam would relieve the eye !of a steam engine, or a newspaper edi
and lo! the Zodiac rings tor)-and little reflection, else he
With the loud clanguor of descending wings." might have been one of the first writers, I will not say merely of his coun BOZMAN.-- This author we only try, but of the age. His prose is full know from one work, a book purportof poetry—his poetry miserably full of ing to be a History of Maryland; and prose. His thoughts, which in prose which but for the fact that there is no are burning and bright, undergo so other history of Maryland, would not many revolutions and eclipses in poe- be worth mentioning. General Wintry, as to appear no longer the same. der, a celebrated advocate of BaltiYet he has the material for a great more, once undertook to supply the poet. But the time of achievement deficiency, in Allen's Journal of The has gone by now—he will live and Times: but the manuscript was bad die nothing better than a clever news- and the printing worse, so that the paper editor, somewhat given to cant. plan was given up. Since then, ano
Lewis and Clarke's Tour is nothing ther attempt has been made by a Mr. remarkable. The style has no parti. Griffith, but the history of Maryland cular attraction-nobody can remem- yet remains to be written. ber anything about it. But quere BRECKENRIDGE, HENRY M.--A may not that be the highest praise ? Pennsylvanian, a lawyer, and son of
Judge Breckenridge, who was alike secret mission thither, under the audistinguished as a humourist, a story. thority of the United States Governteller, and a judge. Mr. B., the son, is ment, in company with two commisthe author of Views in Louisiana, a sioners, (Mr. Justice Bland, now a disrespectable book, made up from per- trict judge of the United States courts, sonal knowledge of the country, during and Mr. Rodney,) neither of whom a long residence, after Louisiana was will soon be forgotten by the Spanish purchased by the United States, and Americans. Judge Bland understood while Mr. B. was traversing it in eve no language but his own, not one word ry direction as a circuit judge. It of Spanish or French ; Mr. Rodney may be depended upon, so far as it nothing of Spanish, and, I believe, litgoes. He also wrote a history of the tle or nothing of French ; and Mr. American war (the last) with Great Breckenridge, their interpreter, secreBritain, in which he has faithfully pre- tary, and companion, though he spoke served the newspaper accounts of the French pretty well, made sad work day, as given by the Americans them- with Spanish. Yet these were the seselves. It is a work of no merit, either cret ambassadors of a wise governin a literary or political view. It can ment, in a season of great political do no good, and may do much harm, anxiety: to perpetuate the thousand-and-one BRYANT, WILLIAM CULLEN.- This lies of the American press, during the gentleman's poetry has found its way, unhappy season of warfare, and furious piece-meal, into England, and having political strife. It can do no good, met with a little of our newspaper even for purposes of amusement, and praise, which has been repeated with must be exceedingly mischievous, when great emphasis in America,is now set up they are put into a popular shape, as among his associates for a poet of exthis “ History of the War” is, and traordinary promise, on the ground of sent abroad through all the western having produced, within the course of country” as a sort of school book. I several years, about fifty duodecimo have not forgotten Dr. Franklin's pages of poetry, such as we shall give newspaper lie (since acknowledged by a specimen of. Mr. B. is not, and himself in his own Memoirs) about the never will be a great poet
. He wants V 6 bales of human scalps, marked and fire—he wants the very rashness of a numbered,” which were supposed to poet-the prodigality and fervour of have been forwarded by the Colonial those, who are overflowing with inspiGovernment of America to this, in the ration. Mr. B., in fact, is a sensible old American war. It was only got young man, of a thrifty disposition, up for the day, but has outlived the who knows how to manage à few rancour of many generations, and, plain ideas in a very handsome way. spite of the doctor's own confession, it is a bad thing for a poet, or for one stands now upon grave record in one whom his friends believe to be a poet, of the most able journals of the United ever to spend a long time about the States, (Niles's Register)—a journal re- manufacture of musical prose, in imimarkable for integrity and plain truth tation of anybody,-as Mr. Bryant -as an historical fact; and, what is and Mr. Percival both do of Milman, worse yet, is actually believed in Ame- who has quite set the fashion in America by a large portion of the people. rica for blank verse. Some lines, Nobody can think more highly of Dr. (about fifteen or twenty,) to a “waterFranklin's virtues than we do, but we fowl,” which are very beautiful, to be should be sorry to have all the conse- sure, but with no more poetry in them quences of such a
wicked political than there is in the Sermon on the trick upon our shoulders.
Mount, are supposed, by his country. Mr. B. is the author of a work upon men, “to be well known in Europe.”' South America--political, commer- The following is taken from his poem, cial, and statistical, which is highly “ The Ages. creditable to him. It is the fruit of «Has Nature, in her calm majestic march, his own personal observation during a Faltered with age at last ? does the bright sur
Grow dim in heaven? or, in their far blue arch, schools. It is, as it were, a language Sparkle the crowd of stars, when day is done,
of his own-a visible thought. Less brightly? when the dew-lipped Spring comes
CHANNING-Professor of Rhetoric Breathes she with airs less soft, or scents the sky
and Belles lettres at Harvard, a broWith flowers less fair, than when her reign begun? ther of the last,-a lawyer, and the Does prodigal Autumn to our age deny
Editor of the North American Review Th e plenty that once swell'd beneath his sober before Mr. Everett. There is nothing
extraordinary about this man; but the BUCKMINSTER.-A clergyman of little that he wrote for the North AmeBoston, remarkable for his pathetic rican was highly respectable, without style of eloquence, and singular piety. having any particular or peculiar chaAfter his death, two or three volumes racter of its own. He should have of manuscript sermons were published nothing to do with rhetoric or bellesby some of his friends—(who had not, lettres, except in the way of a concorperhaps, been much acquainted with dance, or an index.He has no sense any sermons but his)--for the sermons of either, but might get up a good hisof Mr. Buckminster. Unluckily, how- tory of the country, which is wanted ever, a part of them appear to have now at every turn by those who care been printed before. Some of his own to know the truth of America. are very beautiful; and those that were We have now done for the present : not his own, of course, would never another paper of the same length, perhave appeared as his with his own con- haps, will enable us to finish the whole sent.
alphabet of American writers in the CHANNING-Clergyman of Boston. same way; when our countrymen will This gentleman, without any question, judge for themselves concerning the may
rank among the first sermonisers truth of what we have said, and the that ever lived. Such of his writings course of policy which we have recas have been published are remarkable oimended in the outset. for simplicity, clearness, and power. London, Sept. 4, 1824. The diction is of the heart-not of the
SONG. BY MR. WIFFEN.
There's crimson buds, and white and blue.com
O LADY, leave thy silken thread
There's fairy tulips in the East,
Crin d'oro crespo e ambra tersa e pura.
That to the heart with power resistless go.
ON DYING FOR LOVE.
To turn stark fools, and subjects fit
For sport of boys and rabble-wit-Hudibras. DYING for love is a very silly I am a plain-spoken fellow, and am
thing. It' answers no one good more apt to draw conclusions-argal, end whatsoever. It is poetical, roman. I say he died of the cramp, or from tic, perhaps immortalizing ; but never being carried away by the rapidity of theless it is silly, and oftentimes ex- the stream : although, I know at the ceedingly inconvenient. I have same time that this is not the current been pretty near it myself six or seven opinion. I am no poet, and therefore times, but thanks to my obstinacy! take no poetic licences : the romantic (for which, indeed, I ought to be do; and I am quite willing to let thankful, seeing I possess a very con- Common Sense decide between us. siderable portion of that unyielding Let me, however, not be misunderessence, I have contrived to keep stood; I argue not on the impossibiliDeath from the door, and Despair ty, but on the folly and inconsistency from the sanctuary of my thoughts. of dying for love. I cannot, in fact, believe that half of That it has occasionally happened those who have the credit (I should I am well aware. I remember Masay discredit) of dying for love have rian T when she was as lovely really deserved it. A man fixes his and lively a girl as ever laid a blushaffections on a piece of cold beauty-a ing cheek on a snowy pillow, and morsel of stony perfection-or on one sank into dreams of innocence and far above him in rank or fortune-or joy. I remember her, too, when the on an equal, who has unfortunately a rose was fading from her cheek, and lover whom she prefers. Well ! he solace and happiness had vanished becomes melancholy, takes cold upon for ever from her forsaken heart. it, and dies. But this proves nothing; There was the impress of blighted he might have died if his passion had hope upon her brow—the record of a been returned, or if he had never loved villain's faithlessness upon her sunken at all. The fate of my friend R cheek. Her eye told of long sufferis a case in point.' He was deeply ing, and her constant but melancholy enamoured of a very beautiful but ada- smile evinced how patiently she enmantine lady, and, as a matter of dured it. Day by day the hue of course, grew very low-spirited and very mortality waxed fainter; her beautiful miserable. He did not long survive ; form wasted away, and she became at and, as another matter of course, it was last like a spirit of heaven dwelling given out that he died for love.
among, but scarcely holding commuAs the world seemed to think it nion with, the sons and daughters of sounded better than saying, that his the earth. The latter part of her life death was occasioned by drinking cold seemed an abstraction-a dream-an water immediately after walking ten unconsciousness of what was passing miles under a burning sun, I did not around her. The sister of S (of contradict the report, although I had who had broken the vows that good grounds for so doing, and it be- were pledged with such seeming fidelcame very generally believed. Some ity to Marian) abhorred her brother's aver that Leander died of love, “ be- perfidy, and was fonder than ever of cause," say they, “if Hero had not the poor heart-broken girl. She sinbeen on the other side of the Helles- cerely pitied her pont he would not have been drowned -argal, he died for love.* These
For pitee renneth sone in gentil herte ; are your primary-cause-men! your and sought by every means in her wholesale deduction mongers! Now power to revive her past energies,
and recall her to lost happiness and * See As you like it. Act iv. 8. 1. peace. But it was too late; although
she complained not, her spirit was may long to catch a star as he does a broken for ever; and in the effort of butterfly, or to turn the sun round as raising herself to give a last kiss to he is accustomed to turn his hoop, her friend, she sunk back and died but his non-success would not, as nurwithout a struggle or a sigh. There ses call it, “ be the death of him." were some lines in a periodical work, Again : let us imagine that a man shortly after her death, evidently places his affections on an equal, and written by a person acquainted with that she has a stronger yearning tothe parties, which, I think may not wards another. Still, I say, there is improperly be inserted here. no harm done. Let him think (as I
should do) that there may be other To G-S
females with quite as many outward There's a stain on thee that can never fade,
attractions, and more discernment. I Tho' bathed in the mists of future years, have no notion of dying to please any And this world will be but a world of shade,
I have had too much trouble Of sorrow, and anguish, and bitter tears. Thou bast seen a flow'ret pine away,
to support existence to think of laying That, lov'd by thee, would have blossom'd fair, it down upon such grounds. I should And thou shalt meet with a worse decay,
deem it quite enough to perish for And wither and die in thy soul's despair.
the sake of one who really loved me: Like the Summer's breath was the gentle tale for one who did not, I should be sor
With which thou told'st of thy love und truth, ry to suffer a single twinge of the But thy falsehood came, like the wintry gale,
rheumatism, or the lumbago. I have And blighted the flow'ret in its youth.
read of a man who actually fancied It has sunk to earth, but nor tear nor sigh Has e'er betray'd thy bosom's pain,
he was fading away—“ a victim to the Yet a day will come wheu thou would'st die tender passion;"_but who afterwards To call it back from the grave again.
discovered that his complaint was Had'st thou cherish'd it with the smile that won
caused by abstaining too long from his Its fadeless love in Spring's blooming hour ; necessary food. . This was a sad fall Had thy love beam'd o'er it like the sup,
from the drawing-room window of roWhose rays are life to the drooping flow'r ; mance into the area of common sense It had still been fair, and thou bąd'șt now
and real life; but he was forced to Been calm as the lake that sleeps in rest;
make the best of it; so he took his But the ray of Joy shall near light thy brow, Nor pleasure dwell in thy lovely breast.
meals oftener and thought no more
about it. He afterwards actually beFor the lovely one whom thou left'st forlorn, A deep deep lament shall be ;
came a suitor to another, was marriBut no heart will sigh, aud no bosom mourn, ed, and now, I have no doubt, thinks And no eye e'er weep for thee.
just as I do on the subject of dying for Thou wilt pass away to the realms of death
love. In solitude and gloom; And a curse will cling to thy parting breath,
Ere I part with you "my readers As awful as thy doom.
all !" take notice of these my last
words, and farewell directions, which But this, and a few other extreme I give in sincerity of heart, and out of cases, I consider as mere exceptions anxiety for your welfare. Ye who to my general rule. Now, supposing, have never been in love, but who are as I have said before, that a man approaching insensibly towards it dotes upon a beauty without a heart: ---Corydons of sixteen! “ Appolines What, in the name of reason, should imberbes” come home for the holiinduce him to die for one who does days! take heed! Ye are entering not care a rush for him? There may on a little unknown and perilous sea, be others who would have more feel- Look to your bark lest she founder, ing, and less coquetry, with quite as Bring her head round, and scud many personal charms. Or suppos- away before the wind into the port of ing that he is attached to one far Indifference. There is danger in the above him, either in fortune or rank, very serenity that sleeps upon the or in both. What then! Must he
waves: there is faithlessness in the therefore waste away, and become the lightest breath that curls them. Ye mere shadow of himself? 'A child who are in love-ye who are alrəady