Ask the proud train who glory's shade pursue, Where are the arts by which that glory grew? The genuine virtues that with eagle-gaze Sought young Renown in all her orient blaze? Where is the heart by chymic truth refined, The exploring soul, whose eye had read mankind? Where are the links that twined with heavenly art, His country's interest round the patriot's heart? Where is the tongue that scatter'd words of fire? The spirit breathing through the poet's lyre? Do these descend with all that tide of fame

Which vainly waters an unfruitful name ?

Justum bellum quibus necessarium, et pia arma quibus nulla nisi in armis relinquitur spes.

LIVY.

Is there no call, no consecrating cause,
Approved by Heaven, ordain'd by Nature's laws,
Where justice flies the herald of our way,
And truth's pure beams upon the banners play?

Yes, there's a call, sweet as an angel's breath
To slumbering babes, or innocence in death;
And urgent as the tongue of heaven within,
When the mind's balance trembles upon sin.

Oh! 'tis our country's voice, whose claims should

meet

An echo in the soul's most deep retreat ;
Along the heart's responding string should run,
Nor let a tone there vibrate-but the one!

SONG.*

MARY, I believed thee true,

And I was blest in thus believing ;
But now I mourn that e'er I knew
A girl so fair and so deceiving!

Few have ever loved like me,

Oh! I have loved thee too sincerely! And few have e'er deceived like thee,Alas! deceived me too severely!

* I believe these words were adapted by Mr. Little to the pathetic Scotch air "Galla Water."-E.

VOL. VII.

15

Fare thee well! yet think awhile

On one whose bosom bleeds to doubt thee; Who now would rather trust that smile,

And die with thee than live without thee!

Fare thee well! I'll think of thee,

Thou leavest me many a bitter token ;
For see, distracting woman! see,

My peace is gone, my heart is broken!-
Fare thee well!

SONG.

WHY does azure deck the sky?
'Tis to be like thy looks of blue
Why is red the rose's dye?

Because it is thy blushes' hue.
All that's fair, by Love's decree,
Has been made resembling thee!

Why is falling snow so white,

But to be like thy bosom fair? Why are solar beams so bright?

;

That they may seem thy golden hair!

All that's bright, by Love's decree,
Has been made resembling thee!

Why are Nature's beauties felt?

Oh! 'tis thine in her we see! Why has music power to melt? Oh! because it speaks like thee. All that's sweet, by Love's decree, Has been made resembling thee!

MORALITY.

A FAMILIAR EPISTLE.

ADDRESSED TO J. AT-NS-N, ESQ. M.R.I.A.*

THOUGH long at school and college, dozing
On books of rhyme and books of prosing,
And copying from their moral pages,
Fine recipes for forming sages;

* The gentleman to whom this poem is addressed is the author of some esteemed works, and was Mr. Little's most particular friend. I have heard Mr. Little very frequently speak of him as one in whom "the elements were so mixed," that neither in his head nor heart had nature left any defi ciency.-E.

Though long with those divines at school,
Who think to make us good by rule;,
Who, in methodic forms advancing,
Teaching morality like dancing,

Tell us, for Heaven or money's sake,
What steps we are through life to take :
Though thus, my friend, so long employ'd,
And so much midnight oil destroy'd,

I must confess, my searches past,
I only learn'd to doubt at last.

I find the doctors and the sages

Have differ'd in all climes and ages,
And two in fifty scarce agree
On what is pure morality!

"Tis like the rainbow's shifting zone,
And every vision makes its own.

The doctors of the Porch advise,
As modes of being great and wise,
That we should cease to own or know
The luxuries that from feeling flow.

،، Reason alone must claim direction, And Apathy's the soul's perfection.