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AMERICA AND ENGLAND.
BY WASHINGTON ALLSTON, ESQ.
Though ages long have past,
Since our fathers left their home, Their pilot in the blast,
O'er untravelled seas to roam,
And shall we not proclaim
By its chains ?
While the language free and bold
Which the bard of Avon sung,
How the vault of Heaven rung,
While these with reverence meet,
Round our coast!
While the manners, while the arts,
That mould a nation's soul,
Between, let ocean roll,
Yet still from either beach
We are one!
ODE TO A STEAM-BOAT.
BY T. DOUBLEDAY, ESQ.
On such an eve, perchance, as this,
When not a zephyr skims the deep, And sea-birds rest upon the abyss,
Scarce by its heaving rocked to sleep, — On such an eve as this, perchance, Might Scylla eye the blue expanse.
The languid ocean scarce at all
Amongst the sparkling pebbles hissing, The lucid wavelets, as they fall,
The sunny beach in whispers kissing,
Full many a broad, but delicate tint
Is spread upon the liquid plain ; Hues, rich as aught from fancy's mint,
Enamelled meads, or golden grain ;Flowers sub-marine, or purple heath, Are mirrored from the world beneath.
One tiny star-beam, faintly trembling,
Gems the still waters' tranquil breast ;
Its parent in the shadowing east ;-
Hushed is the loud tongue of the deep :
Yon glittering sail, far o'er the tide,
We watch, but only know it glide
Oh! such an eve is sorrow's balm,
Yon lake the poet's Hippocrene;
Or cast a cloud o'er such a scene!
Or ork one sees in Ariosto;
Still wouldst thou not so outrage gusto! But when did gusto ever dream Of seeing ships propelled by steam?
Now blazing like a dozen comets,
And rushing as if nought could bind thee, The while thy strange internal vomits
A sooty train of smoke behind thee;
He left of old his dark dominions,
And waved o’er Paradise his pinions; Whilst Death and Sin came at his back, Would leave, methinks, just such a track!
Was there no quirk,—one can't tell how,
No stiff-necked flaw,-no quiddit latent, Thou worst of all sea monsters, thou !
That might have undermined thy patent, — Or kept it in the' inventor's desk,Fell bane of all that is picturesque ?
Should Neptune, in his turn, invade thee,
And at a pinch old Vulcan fail thee, The sooty mechanist who made thee
May hold it duty to bewail thee;But I shall bring a garland votive, Thou execrable locomotive!
He must be long-tongued, with a witness,
Whoe'er shall prove, to my poor notion,
To make yon clear, pellucid ocean,
And mechanicians of utility,
To admire thee passeth my ability;
It may be orthodox, and wise,
And catholic, and transcendental,
Without a sigh, the ornamental;
That I may never be the priest!
There is a blest voice in the Sabbath air,
my dark spirit, on her mortal way,
And I will drink the cup, and kiss the rod.
THE INCONSTANT'S APOLOGY,
BY THE LATE M. G. LEWIS, ESQ.
Love, I've loved you passing well,
Loved you long, and loved sincerely; How I loved no tongue can tell,
"T was so truly, 't was so dearly; But my fond delirium o'er, Love, adieu; we'll meet no more!
When I owned your beauty's sway,
All my vows were gospel-true, love; That I'm changed, no doubt, you 'll say,
And, believe me, so are you, love ; Bloom departing, youth removed, You 're no more the love I loved !
Can I still the casket prize,
When the gem by Time is plundered ? Can the stalk delight mine eyes,
Whence the rose for aye is sundered?
Parting lip and melting eye,
Teeth of pearl, and cheeks of roses, Limbs that might with Paphia's vie,
Bosom where delight reposes; These the love I love must shew; Say, can you, love ? No, love, no!
Now in Aura's blooming form,
discover; Since my soul they still can warm,
Wherefore call me faithless lover?