and satirical odes, called the Croaker Pieces, were written by him for the "Evening Post," in March, 1819; and soon after, his friend Halleck, the poet, united with him, and the pieces were signed "Croaker & Co." The last one, written by Drake, was that spirited ode, The American Flag. But

THE CULPRIT FAY

is that on which the fame of Drake chiefly rests, and an ever-enduring foundation will it prove to be; for a poem of more exquisite fancy-as happily conceived as it is artistically executed-we have hardly had since the days of Milton's "Comus." It opens with the gathering-"in the middle watch of a summer's night"-of countless spirits of earth from their various homes.

IV.

They come from beds of lichen green,

They creep from the mullen's velvet screen;

Some on the backs of beetles fly

From the silver tops of moon-touch'd trees,

Where they swung in their cobweb hammocks high,
And rock'd about in the evening breeze;

Some from the hum-bird's downy nest,

They had driven him out by elfin power,

And, pillow'd on plumes of his rainbow breast,

Had slumber'd there till the charméd hour;

Some had lain in the scoop of the rock,

With glittering ising-stars inlaid;

And some had open'd the four-o'clock,

And stole within its purple shade.

And now they throng the moonlight glade,
Above-below-on every side,

Their little minim forms array'd

In the tricksy pomp of fairy pride!

They assemble for the following purpose:—

V.

For an Ouphe has broken his vestal vow;
He has loved an earthly maid,

And left for her his woodland shade;

He has lain upon her lip of dew,
And sunn'd him in her eye of blue,
Fann'd her cheek with his wing of air,
Play'd in the ringlets of her hair,
And, nestling on her snowy breast,
Forgot the lily-king's behest.
For this the shadowy tribes of air

To the elfin court must haste away:-
And now they stand expectant there,
To hear the doom of the culprit Fay

The hapless creature is thus condemned:

VIII.

"Thou shalt seek the beach of sand
Where the water bounds the elfin land;

Thou shalt watch the oozy brine

Till the sturgeon leaps in the bright moonshine,
Then dart the glistening arch below,
And catch a drop from his silver bow.
The water-sprites will wield their arms
And dash around, with roar and rave,
And vain are the woodland spirits' charms,
They are the imps that rule the wave.
Yet trust thee in thy single might:
If thy heart be pure and thy spirit right,
Thou shalt win the warlock fight.

IX.

"If the spray-bead gem be won,

The stain of thy wing is wash'd away:
But another errand must be done

Ere thy crime be lost for aye;

Thy flame-wood lamp is quench'd and dark,
Thou must reillume its spark.

Mount thy steed and spur him high

To the heavens' blue canopy;

And when thou seest shooting star,

Follow it fast, and follow it far,—

The last faint spark of its burning train

Shall light the elfin lamp again.

Thou hast heard our sentence, Fay;

Hence! to the water-side, away!"

The following description of his armor is one of surpassing delicacy and beauty:

XXV.

He put his acorn helmet on;

It was plumed of the silk of the thistle-down:

The corslet plate that guarded his breast

Was once the wild bee's golden vest;

His cloak, of a thousand mingled dyes,

Was form'd of the wings of butterflies;

His shield was the shell of a lady-bug queen,

Studs of gold on a ground of green;

And the quivering lance which he brandish'd bright,

Was the sting of a wasp he had slain in fight.

Swift he bestrode his fire-fly steed;

He bared his blade of the bent grass blue;

He drove his spurs of the cockle-seed,

And away like a glance of thought he flew,
To skim the heavens, and follow far
The fiery trail of the rocket-star.

Then away he goes,

XXVII.

Up to the vaulted firmament
His path the fire-fly courser bent,
And at every gallop on the wind,
He flung a glittering spark behind;
He flies like a feather in the blast
Till the first light cloud in heaven is past.

XXIX.

Up to the cope careering swift,
In breathless motion fast,
Fleet as the swallow cuts the drift,
Or the sea-roc rides the blast,
The sapphire sheet of eve is shot,
The spheréd moon is past,
The earth but seems a tiny blot
On a sheet of azure cast.

Oh! it was sweet, in the clear moonlight,
To tread the starry plain of even,

To meet the thousand eyes of night,

And feel the cooling breath of heaven!

But the Elfin made no stop or stay

Till he came to the bank of the milky way,
Then he check'd his courser's foot,

And watch'd for the glimpse of the planet-shoot.

He is successful in his mission, and, on his return, the myriad joyous and dancing sprites-his merry companions-thus welcome him, and then all

vanish:

Ouphe and Goblin! Imp and Sprite!

Elf of eve! and starry Fay!

Ye that love the moon's soft light,
Hither-hither wend your way;

Twine ye in a jocund ring,

Sing and trip it merrily,

Hand to hand, and wing to wing,

Round the wild witch-hazel tree.

Hail the wanderer again

With dance and song, and lute and lyre,

Pure his wing and strong his chain,

And doubly bright his fairy fire.

Twine ye in an airy round,

Brush the dew and print the lea;
Skip and gambol, hop and bound,
Round the wild witch-hazel tree.

The beetle guards our holy ground,
He flies about the haunted place,
And if mortal there be found,

He hums in his ears and flaps his face;
The leaf-harp sounds our roundelay,
The owlet's eyes our lanterns be;
Thus we sing, and dance, and play,
Round the wild witch-hazel tree.
But, hark! from tower on tree-top high,
The sentry-elf his call has made:
A streak is in the eastern sky,

Shapes of moonlight! flit and fade!
The hill-tops gleam in morning's spring,
The skylark shakes his dappled wing,
The day-glimpse glimmers on the lawn,

The cock has crow'd,-and the Fays are gon

Thus ends The Culprit Fay, of the beauty of which but a faint idea can be given by any extracts; for, to be fully enjoyed, it must be read and re-read as a whole. It is a poem remarkable not only as the richest creation of pure fancy in our literature, but for its great power and absorbing interest; for, though it is divested of every human element, it interests us as deeply as if its characters were real flesh and blood.

THE AMERICAN FLAG.

I.

When Freedom from her mountain height
Unfurl'd her standard to the air,
She tore the azure robe of night,

And set the stars of glory there.
She mingled with its gorgeous dyes
The milky baldric of the skies,
And striped its pure, celestial white,
With streakings of the morning light;
Then from his mansion in the sun
She call'd her eagle bearer down,
And gave into his mighty hand
The symbol of her chosen land.

II.

Majestic monarch of the cloud,

Who rear'st aloft thy regal form,
To hear the tempest-trumpings loud,
And see the lightning lances driven,

When strive the warriors of the storm,
And rolls the thunder-drum of heaven,
Child of the sun! to thee 'tis given
To guard the banner of the free,
To hover in the sulphur smoke,
To ward away the battle-stroke,
And bid its blendings shine afar,
Like rainbows on the cloud of war,
The harbingers of victory!

III.

Flag of the brave! thy folds shall fly,
The sign of hope and triumph high,
When speaks the signal trumpet tone,
And the long line comes gleaming on.
Ere yet the life-blood, warm and wet,
Has dimm'd the glistening bayonet,
Each soldier eye shall brightly turn

To where thy sky-born glories burn;
And as his springing steps advance,
Catch war and vengeance from the glance.
And when the cannon-mouthings loud

Heave in wild wreaths the battle-shroud,
And gory sabres rise and fall

Like shoots of flame on midnight's pall;

Then shall thy meteor glances glow,
And cowering foes shall sink beneath
Each gallant arm that strikes below
That lovely messenger of death.

IV.

Flag of the seas! on ocean wave
Thy stars shall glitter o'er the brave;
When death, careering on the gale,

Sweeps darkly round the bellied sail,
And frighted waves rush wildly back
Before the broadside's reeling rack,
Each dying wanderer of the sea

Shall look at once to heaven and thee,
And smile to see thy splendors fly

In triumph o'er his closing eye.

V.

Flag of the free heart's hope and home!
By angel hands to valor given;
Thy stars have lit the welkin dome,

And all thy hues were born in heaven.
Forever float that standard sheet!

Where breathes the foe but falls before us,

With Freedom's soil beneath our feet,

And Freedom's banner streaming o'er us!

WILLIAM B. TAPPAN, 1795-1849.

WILLIAM BINGHAM TAPPAN, the son of Samuel Tappan, a teacher in Beverly, Massachusetts, was born in that town in 1795. At the age of ten, he had written several pieces, which gave promise of future excellence. Losing his father when but twelve years old, he was soon after apprenticed to a clockmaker in Boston. In 1816, he removed to Philadelphia, and established himself in business there; but he soon found that this was not his sphere, and determined to devote himself to a literary life. In 1819, he published a small volume of poems, entitled New England, and other Poems, which was well received. In 1822, he was married to Miss Amelia Colton, daughter of Major Luther Colton, of Longmeadow, Massachusetts, and soon after this he entered, as salesman, into the Depository of the American Sunday-School Union, to which cause he devoted the rest of his life, with great enthusiasm and energy. In 1829, he was transferred to Cincinnati, to take charge of the Depository in that city, but returned to Philadelphia in 1834; and in 1838 he went to Boston to superintend the affairs of the "S. S. Union" operations in New England. In 1841, he was licensed to preach, that he might with more effect present the cause of the Sunday-school to the churches.

At this time, he had published two or three volumes of poetry. In 1845 appeared Poetry of the Heart; in 1846, Sacred and Miscellaneous Poems; in 1847,