Were from the gallows to the pulpit raised; And smooth'd his pillow as he passed away. By village tales the wood god's dwellings made; When Gifford's "Baviad and Mæviad" was republished in Philadelphia, Cliffton contributed a prefatory poetical epistle to the author, which opens with his complaint— In these cold shades, beneath these shifting skies, Where Fancy sickens, and where Genius dies. His death occurred in December, 1799, in the twenty-seventh year of his age. His poems were collected in a volume, published in New York the following year.* These occasional poems" display the poetic culture of the scholar, and an original fancy which had marked out a path for itself, which it is to be regretted was closed by so early a dissolution. EPISTLE TO W. GIFFORD, ESQ. Written at the request of Mr. Cobbett, and prefixed to his edition of that gentleman's elegant poem, "The Baviad and Maviad." In these cold shades, beneath these shifting skies, Where Fancy sickens, and where Genius dies; Poems, chiefly occasional, by the late Mr. Cliffton. To Quando ullum invenient parem? New York: Printed for J. W. Fenno, by G. and R. Waite. 1800. Where few and feeble are the Muse's strains, To boast one effort rescued from the tomb. While this delirious age enchanted seems When truth in classic majesty appear'd, Then, if some thoughtless Bavius dared appear, Short was his date, and limited his sphere; He could but please the changeling mob a day, Then, like his noxious labours pass away; So near a forest tall, some worthless flower, Enjoys the triumph of its gaudy hour, Scatters its little poison thro' the skies, Then droops its empty, hated head, and dies. Still, as from fam'd Ilyssus' classic shore, To Mincius' banks, the muse her laurel bore, The sacred plant to hands divine was given, And deathless Maro nursed the boon of heaven. Exalted bard! to hear thy gentler voice, The vallies listen, and their swains rejoice; But when, on some wild mountain's awful form, We hear thy spirit chaunting to the storm, Of battling chiefs, and armies laid in gore, We rage, we sigh, we wonder and adore. Thus Rome, with Greece, in rival splendour shone, But claimed immortal satire for her own; But soon the arts, once more, a dawn diffuse, Touch'd with the mania, now, what millions rage To shine the laureat blockheads of the age. The dire contagion creeps thro' every grade, Girls, coxcombs, peers, and patriots drive the trade: And e'en the hind, his fruitful fields forgot, For rhyme and misery leave his wife and cot. Ere, to his breast, the watchful mischief spread, Content and plenty cheer'd his little shed And while no thoughts of state perplex'd his mind, He laugh'd at toil, with health and vigour bless'd; No love to foster, no dear friend to wrong, By arms assail'd, we still can arms oppose, And rescue learning from her brutal foes; But when those foes to friendship make pretence, And tempt the judgment with the baits of sense, Carouse with passion, laugh at God's controul, And sack the little empire of the soul, What warning voice can save? Alas! 'tis o'er, The age of virtue will return no more; The doating world, its manly vigor flown, Wanders in mind, and dreams on folly's throne. Come then, sweet bard, again the cause defend, Be still the muses' and religion's friend; Again the banner of thy wrath display, And save the world from Darwin's tinsel lay. TO A ROBIN, From winter so dreary and long, Did she melt at thy comfortless lot? As thou pick'dst at the door of her cot? She did; and the wintry wind, May it howl not around her green grove; Be a bosom so gentle and kind, Only fann'd by the breathings of love. TO FANCY. Airy traveller, Queen of Song, Will he crown my leaping heart? At night while stretch'd on lowly bed, On sea-beat mount, and river'd vale. But the morn, tho' sweet and fair, Thus through life with thee I'll glide, Then lead on, delightful power, Rich or beggar'd, chain'd or free, IL PENSEROSO. I hate this spungy world, with all its store, Me, shall some little tranquil thatch receive, And laugh all day at Lady Fortune there. Of drunken folly at the shrine of chance? Where insect pleasure flits on burnished wing, Eludes our wishes, and keeps up the dance. When in the quiet of an humble home, Beside the fountain, or upon the hill, Where strife and care and sorrow never come, I may be free and happy, if I will. SONG. Boy, shut to the door, and bid trouble begone, Our comfort this night from the glass shall be drawn, Who would not with pleasure the moments prolong, What art thou, kind power, that soft'nest me so, I know thee! for ever thy visit prolong, Sweet spirit of Friendship, Love, Wine, and a Song. See the joy-waking influence rapidly fly, The effulgence of rapture enamels each eye, On a sea of good humour floats gayly along, And now to the regions of Fancy we soar, Resolv'd like good fellows the time to prolong, For Friendship, the solace of mortals below, Good wine can content on misfortune bestow, Then fill, my good fellows, the moment prolong. A FLIGHT OF FANCY. For lonely shades, and rustic bed, I ask no melancholy shed, No hermit's dreary cave, not L But where, to skirt some pleasant vale, And all her fragrant soul abound. In beauty's simple plumage drest, When twilight sleeps from year to year. And fringed plats, where Flora dwells, With the wild wood shall neighbour near. The fairies thro' my walks shall roam, And sylphs inhabit every tree; Come Ariel, subtlest spirit, come, I'll find a blossom there for thee. Extended wide, the diverse scene, My happy casement shall command, The busy farm, the pasture green, And tufts where shelter'd hamlets stand Some dingle oft shall court my eye To dance among the flow'rets there, And here a lucid lake shall lie, Emboss'd with many an islet fair. From crag to crag, with devious sweep, Some frantic flood shall headlong go, And, bursting o'er the dizzy steep, Shall slumber in the lake below. In breezy isles and forests near, The sylvans oft their haunts shall leave, And oft the torrent pause to hear, The lake-nymph's song, at silent eve. There shall the moon with half-shut eye, Delirious, hear her vocal beam, To fingering sounds, responsive sigh, And bless the hermit's midnight dream. No magic weed nor poison fell, Shall tremble there; nor drug uncouth. To round the mutt'ring wizard's spell, Or bathe with death the serpent's tooth. No crusted ditch nor festering fen, With plagues shall teem, a deadly brood No monster leave his nightly den To lap the 'wilder'd pilgrim's blood. But on the rose's dewy brink, Each prismy tear shall catch the gleam, The colours of the morning beam. And hie them to the silver lake. The muse shall hail, at peep of dawn, His stores to hungry winter bring. Monimia come and make it thine. The whistling robin calls thee here, To gamble round thy pleasant door; Thy morning eye's sequester'd tear, For me, thy kindling passion speak, And chain this subtle vision here. Spots of delight, and many a day Of summer love for me shall shine; At sight of that fond smile of thine. And sport us 'neath the peaceful sky. We'll sigh and quit the weeping vale. WILLIAM RAY. WILLIAM RAY, one of the "Algerine Captives," was born in Salisbury, Connecticut, about 1772. His father was a farmer in moderate circumstances, and removing soon after his son's birth to a then unsettled part of the state of New York, the latter had few advantages of early education. After experimenting as a schoolmaster and country shopkeeper, and getting married, having lost, by arriving too late at Philadelphia, what he calls "a flattering prospect of finding a situation as an editor, at thirty dollars a month," he shipped, July 3, 1803, "in a low capacity" on board the U. S. frigate Philadelphia, Captain Bainbridge. On the 31st of October the vessel ran aground off Tripoli, was attacked by a single gun-boat, and struck her colors. The next morning the ship was afloat, but her officers and crew were ashore as prisoners. They were treated with great severity, badly fed and lodged, and set to work in December at raising an old wreck buried in the sand, which they had to shovel from under her and carry in baskets to the shore, working almost naked with the water up to their armpits. They VOL. 1.-39 had afterwards, in March, to drag a heavy wagon "five or six miles into the country over the burning sands, barefoot and shirtless, and back again loaded with timber, before they had anything to eat, except perhaps a few raw carrots." They were imprisoned until June 3, 1805, when articles of peace were signed and the prisoners shipped for home the next day. Ray was made captain's clerk of the Essex, and laureate for the next fourth of July, when the following song by him " was sung at table by consul Lear, and encored three or four times." Hail Independence! hail once more! A host of heroes bright with fame, Our grateful songs demand; And red victorious hand. That recreant horde of barb'rous foes, Can never stand the test, Thy spirit, born in darkest times, Where'er thy champions tread- The Essex, after a cruise in the Mediterranean, reached home August, 1806. Her poet published an account of his adventures a few months after. He served in the militia at Plattsburg in 1812, and after several removes settled down with his family in the village of Onondaga Court-House. In 1821 he published at Auburn a small volume of "Poems on various subjects, religious, moral, sentimental, and humorous," with a sketch of his life. JOSIAH QUINCY. THE will of Josiah Quincy, Jr., contained the following bequest: "I give to my son, when he shall arrive to the age of fifteen years, Algernon Sidney's works, John Locke's works, Lord Bacon's works, Gordon's Tacitus, and Cato's Letters. May the spirit of liberty rest upon him!" The son has entered upon the full fruition and has made good use of this legacy. His long life has been devoted to the dissemination of knowledge, to the instruction of others in the good doctrines those good books have taught, while the "spirit of liberty" now rests like a sunset halo on that aged head. Whenever we read of an assemblage in his native city, convened by the rallying call of liberty, we find a portion of its record earnest words, which he has come forth from his retirement to utter. Even those who differ from him widely in opinion, as in domicile, must, or should, respect the energy and good intent of the old statesman and scholar. Joreal Quing Josiah Quincy was born in 1772, prepared for college at the Phillips Academy in Andover, and graduated at Harvard in 1790. His Commencement oration was on the "Ideal Superiority of the present age in Literature and Politics." He studied law with the Hon. Judge Tudor, and in 1797 married Eliza, daughter of John Morton, a merchant of New York. In 1804 he was elected to the State Senate, and in 1805 to Congress, where he remained until 1813. He was warmly opposed to the purchase of Louisiana, and prophesied a dissolution of the Union as the result of an enlargement of the Confederacy beyond its limits at the time of the formation of the Constitution. He was also an opponent of the Embargo. One of his speeches on this topic contains an eloquent though somewhat ornate passage. They who introduced it abjured it. They who advocated it did not wish, and scarcely knew, its use. And now that it is said to be extended over us, no man in this nation, who values his reputation, will take his Bible oath that it is in effectual and legal operation. There is an old riddle, on a coffin, (said Mr. Quincy,) which I presume we all learnt when we were boys, that is as perfect a representation of the origin, progress, and present state of this thing called non-intercourse, as is possible to be conceived: There was a man bespoke a thing, True it is, that if this non-intercourse shall ever be, in reality, subtended over us, the similitude will fail, in a material point. The poor tenant of the coffin is ignorant of his state. But the poor people of the United States will be literally buried alive in nonintercourse, and realize the grave closing on themselves and their hopes, with a full and cruel consciousness of all the horrors of their condition. His speech on the influence of government patronage, delivered January 1, 1811, attracted much attention. "It ought," said John Quincy Adams, "to be hung up in every office of every office-holder in the Union." He describes the office hunters. Let now, one of your great office-holders-a collector of the customs, a marshal, a commissioner of loans, a post-master in one of your cities, or any officer, agent, or factor, for your territories, or public lands, or person holding a place of minor distinction, but of considerable profit-be called upon to pay the last great debt of nature. The poor man shall hardly be dead, he shall not be cold,-long before the corpse is in the coffin, the mail shall be crowded to repletion with letters, certificates, recommendations, and representations, and every species of sturdy, sycophantic solicitation, by which obtrusive mendicity seeks charity or invites compassion. Why, sir, we hear the clamor of the craving animals at the treasury-trough here in this capitol. Such running, such jostling, such wriggling, such clambering over one another's backs, such squealing because the tub is so narrow and the company so crowded! No, sir; let us not talk of stoical apathy towards the things of the national treasury either in this people, or in the representatives, or senators. * Without meaning, in this place, to cast any particular reflections upon this, or upon any other executive, this I will say, that if no additional guards are provided, and now, after the spirit of party has brought into so full activity the spirit of patronage, there never will be a president of these United States, elected by means now in use, who, if he deals honestly with himself, will not be able, on quitting, to address his presidential chair as John Falstaff addressed Prince Hal: "Before I knew thee I knew nothing, and now I am but little better than one of the wicked." The possession of that station, under the reign of party, will make a man so acquainted with the corrupt principles of human conduct, he will behold our nature in so hungry, and shivering, and craving a state, and be compelled so constantly to observe the solid rewards daily demanded by way of compensation for outrageous patriotism,-that, if he escape out of that atmosphere without partaking of its corruption, he must be below or above the ordinary condition of mortal nature. Is it possible, sir, that he should remain altogether uninfected? Mr. Quincy was an opponent of the war of 1812, and soon after his election to the Senate of his state, June, 1813, gave a decided proof of his opposition by offering the following preamble and resolution in reference to the gallant conduct of Captain Lawrence in the destruction of the British ship of war Peacock by the sloop Hornet. Whereas, It has been found that former resolutions of this kind, passed on similar occasions, relative to other officers engaged in similar service, have given great discontent to many of the good people of this commonwealth, it being considered by them as an encouragement and excitement to the countenance of the present unjust, unnecessary, and iniquitous war; and, on this account, the Senate of Massachusetts have deemed it their duty to refrain from acting on the said proposition. And whereas, this determination of the Senate may, without explanation, be misconstrued into an intentional slight of Capt. Lawrence, and a denial of his particular merits, the Senate therefore deem it their duty to declare that they have a high sense of the naval skill and military and civil virtues of Capt. James Law rence; and they have been withheld from acting on said proposition solely from considerations relative to the nature and principle of the present war: and, to the end that all misapprehension on this subject may be obviated, Resolved, as the sense of the Senate of Massachusetts, that, in a war like the present, waged without justifiable cause, and prosecuted in a manner which indicates that conquest and ambition are its real motives, it is not becoming a moral and religious people to express any approbation of mili |