to his Muse; and, although too much of the Frenchman of that day had found its way into his speculations, yet they cannot be read without leaving the impression of a certain patriotic grandeur of idea, worthy of the first days of our republic.

After the publication of "The Columbiad," BARLOW turned his attention to another literary enterprise which he had long projecteda general history of the United States, and with a view to this made a collection of historical documents. While engaged in these labors, in 1811, he was nominated by President MADISON minister plenipotentiary to the court of France. He accepted the appointment, and sailed immediately for Europe. Upon his arrival in Paris, he made every effort to negotiate a treaty of commerce and indemnification for former spoliations, but without effect-every obstacle being thrown in his way by the artifice of the French diplomatists. In the autumn of 1812 he was invited by MARET, the Duke of Bassano, to meet the Emperor NAPOLEON, for a personal conference, at Wilna, in Poland. He started immediately with this design, travelling by day and night, in a most inclement season, exposed to every severity of a northern climate. His route led him through countries exhausted by the demands of war, where many privations necessarily awaited the traveller. Fatigue, exposure, and the want of accustomed comforts, brought on a fatal attack of inflammation of the lungs, and he died at an obscure village near Cracow, in Poland, on the 22d of December, 1812. Thus BARLOW in the service of his country ended the life which he had early devoted, amid the greatest dangers, to her welfare. Though he had not effected the object of his mission, nor even reached his place of destination, who shall say that his life was not as nobly sacrificed for his country, as though he had resigned it upon a blood-stained field of fight!

While in America the death of her distinguished ambassador was universally lamented, in the city of Paris the highest honors were paid to his memory as a man of letters and a celebrated public functionary. His epitaph was written by the celebrated HELEN MARIA WILLIAMS, and a eulogy was read by DUPONT DE NEMOURS before the society for the encouragement of national industry, and during the following year an account of his life and writings, in quarto form, was published, accompanied by one canto of " The Columbiad," translated into French heroic verse.

In private life, our author was highly esteemed for his amiable temperament, and many social excellences. His manners were generally grave and dignified, and he possessed but little facility of general conversation; but with his intimate friends he was easy and familiar, and upon topics which deeply interested him he conversed with much animation. His mind was rather of a philosophical than a poetical cast, and better adapted to those studies which require

patient investigation and profound thought than to the lighter and more fanciful labors of the Muse. Still, as a poet, he held no humble place among the authors of his day; while, as an ardent patriot, a sincere philanthropist, a zealous republican, and a friend and patron of science and art, he must ever stand among the most distinguished men of his age and country.

THE REIGN OF PEACE.*

These are the views that Freedom's cause attend;
These shall endure till time and nature end.
With Science crowned, shall peace and virtue shine,
And blest Religion beam a light divine.

Here the pure Church, descending from her God,
Shall fix on earth her long and last abode;
Zion arise, in radiant splendor dressed,
By saints admired, by infidels confessed;
Her opening courts, in dazzling glory blaze,
Her walls salvation, and her portals praise.

From each far corner of th' extended earth,
Her gathering sons shall claim their promised birth.
Through the drear wastes, beneath the setting day,
Where prowling natives haunt the wood for prey,
The swarthy millions lift their wondering eyes,
And smile to see the Gospel morning rise:
Those who, through time, in savage darkness lay,
Wake to new light, and hail the glorious day!
In those dark regions, those uncultured wilds,
Fresh blooms the rose, the peaceful lily smiles;
On the tall cliffs unnumbered Carmels rise,
And in each vale some beauteous Sharon lies.

From this fair mount th' excinded stone shall roll,
Reach the far East and spread from pole to pole;
From one small stock shall countless nations rise,

The world replenish and adorn the skies.

Earth's blood-stained empires, with their guide the sun,
From orient climes their gradual progress run;

* From "The Prospect of Peace," a poem delivered at the public examination of the candidates for the degree of Bachelor of Arts, July 23, 1778.

And circling far, reach every western shore,
Till earth-born empires rise and fall no more.
But see the imperial Guide from heaven descend,
Whose beams are peace, whose kingdom knows no end;
From calm Vesperia, through th' ethereal way,
Back sweep the shades before th' effulgent day;
Through the broad cast, the brightening splendor driven,
Reverses nature and illumines heaven;

Astonished regions bless the gladdening sight,
And suns and systems own superior light.

As when the asterial blaze o'er Bethlehem stood,
Which marked the birth-place of th' incarnate GOD;
When eastern priests the heavenly splendor viewed,
And numerous crowds the wondrous sign pursued;
So eastern kings shall view th' unclouded day
Rise in the west and streak its golden way;
That signal spoke a Saviour's humble birth,
This speaks his long and glorious reign on earth!

Then love shall rule, and innocence adore;
Discord shall cease, and tyrants be no more;
Till yon bright orb, and those celestial spheres,
In radiant circles mark a thousand years;
Till the grand fiat burst the ethereal frames,
Worlds crush on worlds, and nature sink in flames!
The Church elect, from smouldering ruins rise,
And sail triumphant through the yielding skies,
Hailed by the Bridegroom! to the Father given,
The joy of angels, and the queen of heaven!

HASTY PUDDING.*

Ye Alps audacious, through the heavens that rise,
Το
cramp the day and hide me from the skies;
Ye Gallic flags, that, o'er their heights unfurled,
Bear death to kings and freedom to the world,
I sing not you. A softer theme I choose,
A virgin theme, unconscious of the Muse,

* From " Hasty Pudding," a poem, in three cantos.

But fruitful, rich, well suited to inspire
The purest frenzy of poetic fire.

Despise it not, ye bards to terror steeled,
Who hurl your thunders round the epic field;
Nor ye who strain your midnight throats to sing
Joys that the vineyard and the still-house bring;
Or on some distant fair your notes employ,
And speak of raptures that you ne'er enjoy.
I sing the sweets I know, the charms I feel,
My morning incense, and my evening meal,-
The sweets of Hasty Pudding. Come, dear bowl,
Glide o'er my palate, and inspire my soul.
The milk beside thee, smoking from the kine,
Its substance mingled, married in with thine,
Shall cool and temper thy superior heat,
And save the pains of blowing while I eat.

O! could the smooth, the emblematic song
Flow like thy genial juices o'er my tongue,
Could those mild morsels in my numbers chime,
And, as they roll in substance, roll in rhyme,
No more thy awkward, unpoetic name
Should shun the muse or prejudice thy fame;
But, rising grateful to the accustomed ear,
All bards should catch it, and all realms revere !

Dear Hasty Pudding, what unpromised joy Expands my heart, to meet thee in Savoy! Doomed o'er the world through devious paths to roam, Each clime my country, and each house my home, My soul is soothed, my cares have found an end; I greet my long-lost, unforgotten friend.

For thee through Paris, that corrupted town, How long in vain I wandered up and down, Where shameless BACCHUS, with his drenching hoard, Cold from his caves usurps the morning board. London is lost in smoke and steeped in tea; No Yankee there can lisp the name of thee; The uncouth word, a libel on the town, Would call a proclamation from the crown.

For climes oblique, that fear the sun's full rays, Chilled in their fogs, exclude the generous maize : A grain whose rich, luxuriant growth requires Short, gentle showers, and bright, ethereal fires.

But here, though distant from our native shore, With mutual glee we meet and laugh once more. The same! I know thee by that yellow face, That strong complexion of true Indian race, Which time can never change, nor soil impair, Nor Alpine snows, nor Turkey's morbid air; For endless years, through every mild domain, Where grows the maize, there thou art sure to reign. But man, more fickle, the bold license claims, In different realms to give thee different names. Thee the soft nations round the warm Levant Polanta call; the French, of course, Polante. E'en in thy native regions, how I blush To hear the Pennsylvanians call thee Mush! On Hudson's banks, while men of Belgic spawn Insult and eat thee by the name Suppawn. All spurious appellations, void of truth; I've better known thee from my earliest youth: Thy name is Hasty Pudding! thus our sires Were wont to greet thee fuming from the fires; And while they argued in thy just defence, With logic clear they thus explained the sense: "In haste the boiling cauldron, o'er the blaze, Receives and cooks the ready powdered maize; In haste 't is served, and then in equal haste, With cooling milk, we make the sweet repast. No carving to be done, no knife to grate The tender ear and wound the stony plate; But the smooth spoon, just fitted to the lip, And taught with art the yielding mass to dip, By frequent journeys to the bowl well stored, Performs the hasty honors of the board." Such is thy name, significant and clear, A name, a sound to every Yankee dear, But most to me, whose heart and palate chaste Preserve my pure, hereditary taste.