views of the man, however honourable, will be lost in the degradation [induced by the mode] of his elevation."

"The regular nomination men are the true legitimates, the genuine placemen, and borough-mongers of this country; with this difference, that in the system of English corruption, it is sufficient to buy over the great personages, but with them corruption is pushed down the whole line of office, from the president to the constable. The secretary of state and his waiter must be of the same party. Has it indeed come to this, that a hundred or more gentlemen at Washington, who are no better nor wiser than their neighbours at home, are to act for the whole American people; and this too under the strongest excitements of personal ambition and interest, not officially, nor upon their oath of office ?"

He speaks satirically of the dread which has been expressed (in favour of a caucus nomination) of the dangers of a choice by the States in Congress: "Truly, they are afraid that the chickens will eat up the cocks and the hens. They fear that half a dozen little States, a thousand miles from each other, will lord it over the whole country. They have always a precedent at hand; and they refer us back to the contest between Mr. Jefferson and Mr. Burr, as though we were all children," &c. 66 They are overwhelmed at the thought of what might be done by cabal, intrigue, and corruption, among the representatives of the people, acting upon their oath of office. But their responsible caucuses are immaculate."

In making an appeal to the party men opposed to him, the writer asks leave to indulge " in a little of that amiable enthusiasm, which they think so praiseworthy, and find so useful to themselves, in a narrower sphere ;" and before he finishes, betrays a little of that arrogance which he had before so sagely and justly reprehended in the men of his own party; as follows: "They must pardon us for differing from them in many particulars. While they are for opening the old fires and scattering the firebrands, we are for raking up the ashes, and letting them go out by degrees. While they think it reasonable to work for themselves, and for pay, we think it not less meritorious to labour in the dissemination of just opinions, without the hope of any pay whatever. While they are for governing the country with half its virtue and talent, we are for the whole.-While they are contending for principles, which will foist themselves into office, we are for advancing men of public spirit every where."

Rusticus, in fine, says of himself: "The writer, though an obscure and humble individual, is not ashamed of what he has written; for he knows that his designs are not sinister, and that his sentiments are not pernicious."

ART. 8.-Waltham: an American Revolutionary Tale. In three Cantos. By JAMES M'HENRY. 24mo. pp. 70. Bliss & White, New-York, 1823.

In giving notices of works, purporting to be works of fancy, we do not intend to be thought fastidious. If any one in this country will give himself to poetic amusement, and shall display his enterprise, or confidence, or (it may sometimes be) vanity, by publishing his poetry -it will go hard, but we will extract from it a page or two of entertainment, for our readers. First, for the entertainment—or, if they choose so to call it, for interest-and then, if need be, for judgment.

This "Tale" is written, according to the dedicatory preface, at the solicitation of several friends of the author in Pittsburgh-to be exclusively American-on an incident that occurred to General Washington, while the army lay at Valley Forge in Pennsylvania. The three cantos are severally entitled, Love; Patriotism; and Victory. The person whose name gives title to the poem, is not its hero-but the father of the heroine, of the society of friends, and a royalist. Of the young hunter, the hero, the author accords us no more of the name than "Henry." The world first expands to his view on the Schuylkill-where it presents to him,

'The clear blue sky, th' interminable wood,
Th' embosom'd farm, the glen of solitude;
The oak-clad mountain waving to the sky,
The maple-margin'd stream that wander'd by ;
The solitary glade with mandrakes crown'd,"
Unwaked, but by the ringdove's plaintive sound.'

The reader may like to see the heroine's residence, somewhere
within the same neighbourhood, and near the American cantonment:
'A sloping lawn before the cot withdrew,
Disclosing Schuylkill's glittering wave to view,
While Perkiomy's gentle hills behind,
Ward off with kindly care the northern wind,
And yield a brook, whose never-failing sound
Cheers the green shades and solitudes around;
Or winding by the garden's verge, bestows
Nutritious spirit to each plant that grows;
Whether their vines the meek cucumbers spread,
Or stately lilies lift the golden head.'

The subject of this canto, being Love, the mode of falling into it is represented very much as it has been sung, since the deluge: but the éclaircissement deserves the reader's curiosity.

'He saw her modest as the pansy flower,

That hides its timid sweets in wild-wood bower;

And in her looks he saw a spirit shine,

All pure and holy from its source divine;

A something more than earthly charms he saw,
And felt a something more than love-'twas awe.
His manly soul, that ne'er had known to fear,
Now felt the timid throb when she was near;'

He forsakes his hunting sports:

'Now bounds the deer uninjured through the shade,
The quiet partridge pecks along the glade,

The sportive squirrel skips from tree to tree,

And humming-birds attune their minstrelsy.'

He declares himself when, after long and careful watching, he has first discovered a proof of the lady's sympathy, by peeping into her recess, a wild-pink covered bower,' and finding in her bible a passage marked-chap. v. ver. 8. of Solomon's Song:

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"I charge ye, Salem's maids! the youth to tell,
If ye can find him, that I love him well !"'

She surprises him, and he makes all the appeals for forgiveness, and declarations of potent passion, and intercessions for soothing smiles, which the romantic may fancy. Being a Quakeress, her reply to his long speech is characteristic.

"There is no fault"-was all she faintly said,

With faltering voice that her full heart betray'd.'

Canto II., of Patriotism, is intended to represent the triumph of the young hunter's love of country, over his other love-and the incident, between Waltham and Washington, on which the story is built. On the principal subject, we can find nothing for the reader's interest.Washington has arrived at the most dreary period of the Revolution : 'What anxious passion, ne'er to be express'd, Now, father of thy country! fill'd thy breast, As oft, retired, thy soul would contemplate Thy country's freedom on the brink of fate. Where Perkiomy's heights their groves display, By Schuylkill's bank thy faithful followers lay."

He is represented as betaking himself to the flowery glen of the Quakeress, for nightly prayer-(the old story, which we believe is to be found in Weems) and to be in the habit of wandering from the camp alone, oft by the sober star of evening, to this place, which he had marked as a covert by nature made.'

'Art had, indeed, improv'd the sacred spot,
But so like nature, that thou knew'st it not.'

''Twas that recess with wild-pinks cover'd o'er,
The bower of Henry and his Ellenore!

Oft there withdrawn from every human eye,
To Heaven arose thy supplicating cry:

That he whose power can make and can unmake,
Thy country's cause would to his keeping take.'

The lady, being more strongly inclined, as is natural, to adopt the political sentiments of her lover than of her father, listened to Washington:

"Oft heard his prayers, and, warm'd by what she heard,
Him, and his cause, lov'd, honour'd, and rever'd."

But, a plot is entered into between an officer of British dragoons and Waltham, (to whose daughter, he is making suit,) finding that Washington is accustomed to visit the old Quaker's, to seize and carry him off a prisoner-the Quaker thinking it his duty:

"For thou, the leader of the rebel bands,
The great destroyer of the country's peace,
If thou wert seiz❜d, contention soon would cease.”
'This danger pending o'er the pious chief,
Fill'd the sweet maiden with alarm and grief.'—

The maid prevails on her father first to listen to one of the prayers of Washington. The hour is silent: the drum and the war-fife are asleep :

'And nought is heard that sickening warfare tells
Except the measur'd tramp of sentinels.

Soft breathing zephyrs gently mov'd the trees,
And streamlets seem'd to flow with greater ease;
Bright shone the stars along the azure way,
And ting'd the woodland paths with sober gray;"

'Such was the sweetly spirit soothing hour,
When Ellenore, towards her favourite bower,
Her father led, with anxious wish that there
He might o'erhear the Chieftain's nightly prayer.'

From which we select the following:

"Almighty Ruler of the battle's hour!
How vain, alas! how vain is human power,
Without the aid of thy resistless hand,
To snatch from misery this afflicted land!
At Freedom's call her banners we display,
Her mighty call we could not disobey;
Her sacred voice our bosoms felt was thine,
For Freedom's voice, we know, must be divine!'
"For slighted justice we to arms were driven,
Which never can be thought offence in heaven;
And, sure, oh Thou! who dost all fate command,
Who hold'st the universe in thy right hand,
It was no crime from chains ourselves to free,
And own allegiance to no king but Thee :'

Waltham is struck with compunction, and becomes a convert to the American cause. He addresses himself to the Commander, thus:

"Illustrious chief of virtue and of fame!

Thy enemy, this night, I hither came;

But God's thy friend, for thou his servant art—
Oh! may he pardon this long-erring heart,
Which from this hour from foreign ties withdraws,

And clings to thee, and to thy righteous cause."' &c.
Washington's words, in reply, " are few and dignified.”

The third canto, entitled Victory, is intended to represent a contest between the British Captain, (the unsuccessful suitor,) at the head of fifty dragoons, with a party of American cavalry, under the command of Henry, for the possession of Ellenore-whom the former intends to carry off; after he has burned her house, and hung her father as a rebel. He draws up his men, and first attempts to negotiate by persuasion. His threats, and the old man's indignant retort, have more spirit than originality. The proceedings, to tie, &c. are interrupted by the daughter's appearance and swoon. When she speaks, however, the same indignation on her part, induces a renewal of the order to hang. The father is bound, and when the Captain approaches to seize the lady-she snatches a pistol from its unguarded case,' and cries "stand off." While he hesitates, the alarum trumpets sound, and "the foe in sight" is cried from without. The description which follows, is a concentration of the author's most terrible readings -and is by far too desperate. The sabres flash' a sanguine glare'— and gleam in horrid light.' As the battle rages, the day' is oft retrieved by the single arm of the British hero Osborne-He at length crosses the sight of young Harry. Then a parley of alternate defiance takes place between them, while the battle waits, in the old style of chivalry. First, Osborne invokes, in ten lines, his wrongsconcluding thus:

"But death shall take thee from my hands to-day,

This sword to happiness shall clear my way.'

To which Henry gives twelve lines of vengeful retort, that finish with:

"Then, for my country, and for Ellenore,

Heav'n nerves my arm-thy days, thy crimes are o'er !" " The fight is seen, and heard, by the lady from the lattice-' the maid of the holy heart, and charms divine.' She hears their dreadful trampling on the ground'-and sees the fiery sparks, the steel scatters o'er the smoking plain.' And when one of them falls she hears the mighty shock-that made earth tremble like a falling rock.' One objection to this author's poetry is, that it is too diffuse. He must have observed, that this applies to most of the unsuccessful poets of the day. Genius is a very pretty thing-but unless restricted to what is adapted to the occasion, and to what it draws from its origiVOL. I.

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