Hartford, in two octavo volumes. In 1825 Judge TRUMBULL removed to Detroit, to the residence of his daughter, the wife of the Honorable WILLIAM WOODBRIDGE, where he remained until the time of his death, which occurred in May, 1831, in the eighty-first year of his age.

Beside the poems already mentioned, which were his chief productions, there are a number of shorter ones contained in the volumes of our author, mostly upon serious subjects, which deserve notice. They prove that while satire was his peculiar forte, he was not unequal to other styles of composition. Of these the "Ode to Sleep," and "The Prophecy of Balaam," may be instanced as possessing superior merit.

Judge TRUMBULL maintained through life an honorable and upright character. The powers of satire, which formed a striking trait of his character, while they gave a pointedness and piquancy to his common conversation, he endeavored to restrain within the bounds of courteousness and kindness. As a scholar, a wit, and gentleman, he was greatly admired: and he left a name which must always sustain a conspicuous place in the early history of American letters.

THE PROPHECY OF BALAAM

Numbers, Chapters 23d and 24th.

I.

On lofty Peor's brow,

That rears its forehead to the sky,
And sees the airy vapors fly,

And clouds in bright expansion sail below,

Sublime the Prophet stood.

Beneath its pine-clad side

The distant world her varied landscape yields;

Winding vales and length'ning fields,

Streams in sunny maze that flow'd,
Stretch'd immense in prospect wide,

Forests green in summer's pride.

Waving glory gilds the main,

The dazzling sun ascending high,

While earth's blue verge, at distance dimly seen,

Spreads from the aching sight, and fades into the sky.

II.

Beneath his feet, along the level plain,

The host of Israel stretched in deep array;

Their tents rose frequent on the enamelled green,
Bright to the wind the colored streamers play.
Red from the slaughter of their foes,

In awful steel th' embattled heroes stood;
High o'er the shaded ark in terror rose
The cloud, the dark pavilion of their GoD.
Before the Seer's unwilling eyes,

The years unborn ascend to sight;
He saw their opening morn arise,
Bright in the sunshine of the fav'ring skies;
While from th' insufferable light,
Fled the dire dæmons of opposing night.
No more, elate with stygian aid,
He waves the wand's enchanted power,
And baleful through the hallowed glade,

His magic footsteps rove no more.
Filled with prophetic fire, he lifts his hand
O'er the deep host in dim array;

And awed by Heaven's supreme command,
Pours forth the rapture of the living lay.

III.

Fair, oh Israel, are thy tents,

Blest the banners of thy fame;

Blest the dwellings of his saints,

Where their GOD displays his name.

Fair as these vales, that stretch their lawns so wide,
As gardens smile in flow'ry meadows fair,

As rising cedars, on the streamlet's side,
Unfold their arms and court the fragrant air.
Vain is magic's deadly force,
Vain the dire enchanter's spell,
Waving wand or charméd curse,
Vain the pride, the rage of hell.
From Peor's high, illumined brow,
I see th' Eternal Power revealed,
And all the lengthened plain below
O'ershrouded by th' Almighty Shield.

GOD, their guardian GoD, descends,

And Israel's favorite host Omnipotence defends.

IV.

And see, bright Judah's Star ascending
Fires the east with crimson day,

Awful o'er his foes impending,
Pours wide the lightning of his ray,
And flames destruction on th' opposing world.
Death's broad banners dark, unfurl'd,
Wave o'er his blood-encircled way.
Sceptred king of Moab, hear
Deeds that future times await,

Deadly triumph, war severe,
Israel's pride and Moab's fate.

What echoing terrors burst upon mine ear!
What awful forms in flaming horror rise!
Empurpled Rage, pale Ruin, heart-struck Fear,
In scenes of blood ascend, and skim before my eyes.

V.

Dimly on the skirt of night,
O'er thy sons the cloud impends;
Echoing storm with wild affright,

Loud the astonished ether rends.

Long hosts, emblazed with sunbright shields, appear,
And Death, in fierce career,

Glides on their light'ning swords: along thy shores,
Armed with the bolts of fate,

What hostile navies wait!

Above, around, the shout of ruin roars.

For nought avails, that, clad in spiry pride,

Thy rising cities glittered on the day;

The vengeful arms wave devastation wide,

And give thy pompous domes to smouldering flames a prey.

VI.

Edom bows her lofty head,

Seir submits her vanquished lands,

Amalek, of hosts the dread,

Sinks beneath their wasting hands.

See, whelmed in smoky heaps, the ruined walls
Rise o'er thy children's hapless grave!

Low thy blasted glory falls;
Vain the pride that could not save!
Israel's swords arrest the prey,

Back to swift fate thy trembling standards turn;
Black desolation rolls along their way,

War sweeps in front, and flames behind them burn;
And Death and dire Dismay

Unfold their universal grave, and ope the mighty urn.

THE SCHOOLMASTER.*

Next see our youth at school appear,
Procured for forty pounds a year;
His ragged regiment round assemble,
Taught, not to read, but fear and tremble.
Before him, rods prepare his way,
Those dreaded antidotes to play.
Then throned aloft in elbow chair,
With solemn face and awful air,
He tries, with ease and unconcern,
To teach what ne'er himself could learn ;
Gives law and punishment alone,

Judge, jury, bailiff, all in one;

Holds all good learning must depend

Upon his rod's extremest end,

Whose great electric virtue's such,

Each genius brightens at the touch;

With threats and blows, incitements pressing,
Drives on his lads to learn each lesson;

Thinks flogging cures all moral ills,

And breaks their heads to break their wills.

The year is done; he takes his leave;
The children smile; the parents grieve;
And seek again, their school to keep,
One just as good and just as cheap.

* From Progress of Dulness, Part I.

THE FOP'S DECLINE.*

But ah! how short the fairest name Stands on the slippery steep of fame! The noblest heights we 're soonest giddy on; The sun ne'er stays in his meridian; The brightest stars must quickly set; And DICK has deeply run in debt. Not all his oaths can duns dismay, Or deadly bailiffs fright away; Not all his compliments can bail, Or minuets dance him from the jail. Law not the least respect can give To the laced coat, or ruffled sleeve; His splendid ornaments must fall, And all is lost, for these were all.

What then remains? in health's decline,
By lewdness, luxury and wine,

Worn by disease, with purse too shallow,
To lead in fashions, or to follow,
The meteor's gaudy light is gone;
Lone age with hasty step comes on.
How pale the palsied fop appears,
Low shivering in the vale of years;
The ghost of all his former days,
When folly lent the ear of praise
And beaux with pleased attention hung
On accents of his chatt'ring tongue.
Now all those days of pleasure o'er,

That chatt'ring tongue must prate no more.
From every place, that blessed his hopes,
He's elbowed out by younger fops.
Each pleasing thought unknown, that cheers
The sadness of declining years,

In lonely age he sinks forlorn,

Of all, and even himself, the scorn.

The coxcomb's course were gay and clever, Would health and money last for ever, Did conscience never break the charm, Nor fear of future worlds alarm.

* From Progress of Dulness, Part II.