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 reverenc'd, e'en 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 yankies, democrats and frogs,
Thy foot shall follow me, thy heart and eyes
With me shall wonder, and with me despise !
While I, as oft, in witching thought shall rove
To thee, to friendship, and that land I love,
Where, like the air that fans her fields of green,
Her freedom spreads, 'unfever'd and serene;
Where sovereign man can condescend to see
The throne and laws more sovereign still than he!
Once more adieu!-my weary eye-lid winks,
The moon grows clouded, and my taper sinks.

Tu semper amoris

Sis memor, et cari comitis ne abscedat imago.

Valerius Flaccus, Lib. iv.

LINES

WRITTEN ON LEAVING PHILADELPHIA.

τηνδε την πολιν Φίλως

Ειπων επάξια γαρ.

SOPHOCL. Edip. Colon. v. 758.

ALONE by the Schuylkill a wanderer rov'd
And bright were its flowery banks to his eye;
But far, very far, were the friends that he lov'd,

And he gaz'd on its flowery banks with a sigh!

O 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!

Nor long did the soul of the stranger remain

Unblest by the smile he had languish'd to meet; Though scarce did he hope it would soothe him again, Till the threshold of home had been kist by his feet!

с с

But the lays of his boyhood had stol'n to their ear, And they lov'd what they knew of so humble a name, And they told him, with flattery welcome and dear,

That they found in his heart something sweeter than fame!

Nor did woman-O woman! whose form and whose soul
Are the spell and the light of each path we pursue;
Whether sunn'd in the tropics, or chill'd at the pole,
If woman be there, there is happiness too!

Nor did she her enamouring magic deny,

That magic his heart had relinquish'd so long,
Like eyes he had lov'd was her eloquent eye,
Like them did it soften and weep at his song!

Oh! blest be the tear, and in memory oft

May its sparkle be shed o'er his wandering dream! Oh! blest be that eye, and may passion as soft, As free from a pang ever mellow its beam!

The stranger is gone-but he will not forget,

When at home he shall talk of the toil he has known,

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 DITHYRAMBIC ODE.*

'TWAS

WAS on a day

When the immortals at their banquet lay;

The bowl

Sparkled with starry dew,

The weeping of those myriad urns of light,
Within whose orbs the almighty Power,
At nature's dawning hour,

*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, to depausades, 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 a ceux qui lisent attentivement les odes de Pindare." Memoirs de l'Acad. vol. x, 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

Stor'd the rich fluid of ethereal soul !*

Around

Soft odorous clouds, that upward wing their flight
From eastern isles,

jargon they are represented, and that even their irregularity was what Boileau calls "un beau désordre." Chiabrera, who has been styled the Pindar of Italy, and from whom all its poetry upon the Greek model was called Chiabreresco (as Crescimbeni informs us, Lib. i, Cap. 12) has given, amongst his Vendemmie, a Dithyrambic, all' uso de' Greci; it is full of those compound epithets, which, we are told, were a chief character of the style (DET8s de deŽEIS ETTO18). Suid. Auparßodid.); such as

Briglindorato Pegaso
Nubicalpestator.

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

Rime del CHIABRERA, Part II, p. 352.

* This is a Platonic fancy; the philosopher supposes, in his Timæus, 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 he 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. Ταυτ' είπε και παλιν επί τον πρότερον κρατήρα εν ώ την τε παντας ψυχην κεραννυς έμισγε κ. τ. λ.