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Nursed by the pleasures that unman the soul,
His discipline of action they control;

Reckless he reigns of all his regal care,

Unheard ascends his suffering people's prayer;
Oh, Heaven! can aught but ill from him proceed?
Will Worth's mute voice his favor boot to plead?
Who scarcely knows her name, much less her form,
And deems her but a vapour in a storm;
Vision of days gone by-a future trance-
Phrensy-hypocrisy-or ignorance.


But other task demands the present strain-
For lo, the monarch and his guide attain,
Where smiles Aristes' dwelling o'er the plain,
In lowly vale at Mountain Ida's foot,
Is reared the good man's hospitable cot,
No awful arches grace its simple state,
Nor pride of art to speak the owner great;
The charms of Nature but adorn the scene,
High-spreading trees, and flowery lawns between,
With glistening prospects, pleasurable glades,
Song-breathing bowers, and noon.impervious shades;
And emerald groves with all their golden fruit,
And streams of silver music never mute.
No splendid domes obstruct the distant sight,
Bereaving Phoebus of his perfect light;
But Heaven appears an ambient canopy,
Wide, without confine, without limit, high.
There the young muse, the bard and sage invites,
And wandering Fancy there to rove delights:
But, above all, there is the favorite seat
Of calm content-the halcyon of retreat!
The virtuous dwelling to the monarch shewn-
Lo, he approached the open gate alone ;-
Saw by his hearth that hospitable One,
Seated between Sabina and his Son,
Reading old Homer's tale of Ilión,

While through their souls the solemn feeling ran;—
His purpose recollected, then began:

And roused Aristes of the placid look,

With voice of exclamation, from his book;

'Twas Sorrow's voice of sighs! Aristes' soul,

As to a level gushing waters roll,

To soothe Affliction's children, aye would speed,
Bound, like the hart, to aid the son of need;
He saw the supplicant, and hasten'd straight,
To welcome him within his open gate.
The gladness of his heart was in his face:
Sabina caught the smile; the smile the place,


And brightened with the hospitable smile;
Reflects the glow the filial look the while.
Illumines, thus, the sun's refulgent ray
The earth, diffusing far the rosy day;
Its magic light discloses to the view

The breathing world, and gives it all its hue:
The stream reflects the flame-the sovereign fire
Doth with delight the soul of man inspire.
The bounteous board is for the stranger spread,
And heaped amain with hospitable bread.


As one who just beholds unwonted light,
Or an Immortal in her glory dight,
The monarch stood Sabina thus before,
In doubt if what he saw he should adore.
Oh, fair Sabina! now thy charms impart
A fire whose flames are of the heart-the heart
Which proudly murmurs in its sudden trance,
And gathers fiercer phrenzy every glance.
Her eyes and blushes mingle snow and fire,
That check-excite,-altern-the bad desire.
He was a cloud, that, while the fields were bright,
Frowned o'er the sun, and blasted the delight.

Anon he turned away. Within his soul,
As Phlegethon, Thought's burning torrents roll:
Green lust, and every demon passion smiled,
To note renewed the obedience of their child;
For, like their child, he yielded to their sway,
Whom, as a god, a kingdom must obey.
Aristes, to his cause of trouble blind,
Deeming it offspring of his fate unkind,
Resumed discourse to soothe the stranger's mind.
Then interposed Sabina: every word

Was like sweet melody in childhood heard;
Her very soul was tenderness and faith,

And where she loved poured forth in every breath;
And on her lord she glanced her dark bright eyes;
Her hand he pressed, and tenderly replies.
And converse then ensued, whose sum of bliss
Blends an Elysium of all sympathies,
Dulcetly vocal-and from heart to heart,
Through the domestic circle, words impart
The heart's own faithful electricity;

Flushing the cheek, and flashing in the eye,
Kindling a thousand feelings-and all Truth's—
The father's, and the mother's, and the youth's-
Words-feelings-and all virtue's: such as THOU,
ASTREA! once on earth, forsaken now,

Heard in thy happy reign, and also felt,
And uttered in thy happiness, and dealt
To a glad world, that breathed of love alone-
Such as thou utterest now from thy still throne,
And solitary, in the zodiac, whence

Thou look'st upon this spot of strife and sense,
And mourn'stand speak'st in indignation then,
Stern arbitress of actions and of men!

To thee-to thee-I dedicate this strain-
My heart-my soul-thy temple and thy fane!
Muse-wafted to the mountain and the stream,
I look to thee, and wrestle with the theme:
Thongh young, yet resolute,—if weak, yet strong
In hope, and burning for a name of song,
Sacred to thee and thine, whose music is
(If such is blended, or may be, with this,)
The rite wherewith I, thy true priest, prepare
To incense Thee within thy starry sphere!

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Blest were I, should my pupil pen avail, To teach Aristes' virtues by this tale, And so, one step, Astrea's reign restore, And poise the balance, as it was of yore, When Justice held the beam,-that age of gold, Writ in Time's book, whose pages are all told.


Aristes! though so hospitably kind,
Thou warmest one, the venom of whose mind
Resolves, in Tarquin lust, to seize away
From thy true arms thy true Lucretia.
Can this be kingly? How shall I compare
Such degradation from so high a sphere,
Where, like a god, he might exist, and rise
To all the joy and glory of the skies,
Utter the doom to virtue and to vice,
Control the bad, and bid the good rejoice?
'Tis as the sun should leave his azure height,
To illumine the regions of infernal night;
As if a god should heavenly pleasures change
For the terrestrial lust-polluted range!
But he, regardless of his station high,
Unrivalled, save by Jove's supremacy-
To gain the prize-be deemed no purchase dear,
Not even ruin, for it seemed so fair.

E'en thus the traveller, who, with pains enow,
Wearied and spent, attains the rugged brow
Of the high rocks, which clip Lake Bergen round,
Silent, transparent, motionless, profound,

-And by those giant forms from day concealed,
But to nocturnal radiances revealed,

Whose fatal peaks the very birds avoid,

Lest the calm depth allure them, self-destroyed-
Looks from the cliffs projecting waste and brown
Upon the fascinant wild of waters down;
Stands o'er the mirror with suspended breath,
Then seeks the heaven below, and finds it-death.


Fleet Time to Evening flies, and now hath past;
Night o'er the world her sable mantle cast-
Now glows the Crescent 'mid her starry train,
To guide the shipman o'er the devious main.
Just twinkles many a star, and hides its head,
Then tricks its beams, and darts into its bed.
A yellow livery clothes the deep'ning woods,
And not a breeze disturbs the silent floods.
The concave, through the lattice partly seen,
With azure and with gold glows lovely and serene.

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Song-charm'd, retired, on all, except the guest,
Sleep wav'd his airy wand of care-untroubled rest.


I. A. H.



WHATEVER be the nature of the thinking Principle,—be it a single power, acting in different modes; or composed of various powers, each acting in its own peculiar sphere,-the phenomena are the same in result. Every human being, properly organized, possesses a capacity to receive and combine mental images. There is a power not merely capable of receiving simple impressions of an individual nature, but the faculty of forming, from two classes of objects or qualities, a third species, which exists only in the mind, and not in external reality. This capacity we denominate the IMAGI

NATION: its nature may be variously explained by different metaphysicians; but, in the present instance, it is enough to refer to those characteristics of it, which reflection must admit to be true. Nice distinctions, and subtle refinements, are not on this occasion the subjects of enquiry.

The nature of the faculty in question is perhaps best seen in its operation. The fabled Centaur is a plain and intelligible instance. A peculiar people in Thessaly were famous for training the war-horse; the noble animal and his skilful master were identified: the images of the two were combined in one; and poets, sculptors, and painters, have exhibited a form that had no existence but in the brain of fancy.

This was the combination of mere bodily figures. There are also productions of a more abstract nature, and a more intellectual stamp; they consist of associations of dissimilar or different properties and qualities.

We have many fine instances from Shakspeare, which combine the qualities of different objects, in order to heighten the impression. There is no necessary, or even obvious relation between sweetness, moonlight, and sleep; and yet how appropriately are they blended in these familiar expressions :

"How sweet the MOON-LIGHT sleeps upon this bank;
Here will we sit, and let the sounds of music
Creep in our ears; soft stillness and the night
Become the touches of sweet harmony."

There is no strict analogy between the southern breeze, or the odours of the violet, and the sounds of music; yet how much is the sensation increased by the beautiful associations which are here assembled:

"That strain again-it had a dying fall;

O, it came o'er the ear like the sweet South,
That breathes upon a bank of violets,
Stealing, and giving odour.'

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We perceive, then, that there is a faculty of imagining objects and relations which we have never seen,-of uniting what has always been disjoined; and that this power extends, not merely to the coalition of tangible objects, but also to the transfer of the properties of one object to illustrate or embellish another.

The brilliancy of the Imagination stands contrasted with its ordinary nature. There are few who do not possess the capacity of receiving and comprehending the inventions of OTHER minds; yet there are many who have no power to form them in their own. The faculty is here in its passive state. The first mind which fashioned the palpable presence

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