OF THE 
 
 NIVER 
 
THE 
 
 POEMS, ODES, SONGS, 
 
 AND OTHER 
 
 METRICAL EFFUSIONS, 
 
 OP 
 
 SAMUEL WOODWORTH, 
 
 Author of " The Champions of Freedom," fa. 
 
 NEW-YORK: 
 
 PUBLISHED BY ABRAHAM AS TEN AND MATTHIAS LOPEZ. 
 
 1818. 
 
-Southern Disirid of Nate-York, ss. 
 
 Be it remembered, thai on the fourth day of October, in the 
 forty -second year of the. Independence of the United Slates of 
 (L.S.) America, Matthias Lopez and Abraham Asten, of the said Dis 
 trict, have deposited in this office the title of a book the right 
 whereof they claim as proprietors, in the words following, to 
 wit: 
 
 " The. Poems, Odes, Songs, and other Metrical Effusions, of Samuel 
 Woodworth, author of the Champions of > reedom, &c. 
 
 Jn conformity to the Act of the Congress of the United States, enti 
 tled, " An Act for the Encouragement of Learning, by securing the 
 mies of Maps, Charts, and Books, to the authors and proprietors of 
 ich copies, during the time therein mentioned :" and also to. an Act 
 ititled " An Act, Supplementary to an Act, entitled An Act for the 
 1 ncouiagcmetit of Learning, by securing the copies of Maps, Charts, 
 a id Books, to the aulhors and proprietors of such copies, during the 
 times therein mentioned, and extending the benefits thereof to the arts 
 of designing, engraving, und etching historical and other prints." 
 
 Clerk of the Southern District of New-York. 
 
 Asten & Co. Printer*. 
 
; 
 
 * 
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 
 
 OF 
 
 SAMUEL WOODWORTH. 
 
 Tiie compilers and publishers of the present work 
 have been actuated by two motives, which they wish to 
 be particularly and distinctly understood by its patrons. 
 
 First A desire to rescue from oblivion the fugitive 
 productions of a native poet ; productions, which, in 
 their opinion, would have secured an English author 
 both fame and opulence; but which, on this side the 
 Atlantic, have been suffered to 
 
 " blush unseen, * 
 
 And waste their sweetness on the desert air. 79 
 
 Secondly A desire to relieve their unfortunate author 
 from those pecuniary embarrassments which have been 
 created principally by the benevolence of his disposi 
 tion ; embarrassments which are the more painful to the 
 sufferer, inasmuch as they tend to oppqse the genuine 
 ebullitions of a heart governed by honour, integrity, and 
 every virtuous principle. 
 
 These motives, we most solemnly avow, are purely 
 disinterested; unless self-interest can be predicated on 
 love of country, or private friendship. Digident of his 
 own merits, and discouraged by the total failure of 
 
iv SKETCH OF THE 
 
 several similar attempts, the author shrinks from the 
 undertaking on his own responsibility, and has grant 
 ed a reluctant consent that his friends should thus 
 come forward on theirs. But, as this consent has at 
 length been obtained, the publishers feel no hesitation 
 in submitting their undertaking, with the motives which 
 induced it, to the consideration of an impartial and 
 liberal public. 
 
 To those who enjoy a personal acquaintance with 
 Mr. Woodworth, the publishers need not address them 
 selves. To others they would observe, that delicacy 
 alone prevents their delineating, still more particularly, 
 a character which has long secured him the friendship 
 and respect of a large circle of acquaintance some of 
 whom are ornaments to their country and human nature. 
 A brief sketch of his life and writings, however, may 
 not be unacceptable to the reader. 
 
 SAMUEL WOODWORTH, the author of this volume, 
 was born in the state of Massachusetts, at Scituate, in 
 the county of Plymouth, on the 13th day of January, 
 1785. He is the youngest of four children, all of whom, 
 we believe, are still living. His father cultivates a 
 small farm (the property of a second wife) which 
 barely produces the necessaries of life, the soil and 
 climate of that county being very unfriendly to agri 
 culture. The old gentleman was a soldier of the revo 
 lutionary army ; it is, therefore, not surprising that he 
 was unable to give his children an education equal 
 to his wishes, At the age of fourteen, the extent of 
 our author s acquirements was a partial knowledge of 
 reading, writing and arithmetic. No school was taught 
 in the village, except during the three winter months ; 
 and, as a mistaken idea of economy always governed 
 {lie selection of a teacher, he was generally as ignorant 
 as his pupils. 
 
 During the above period, however, the subject of 
 tbis short biographical sketch, had produced several 
 
AUTHOR S LIFE. 
 
 trifling effusions in verse, in which his schoolmaster 
 and the clergy man of the parish thought they discover 
 ed traits of genius which deserved encouragement and 
 cultivation. He was, therefore, with the approbation 
 of his parents, placed under the care of this clergyman, 
 (the Rev. Nehcmiah Thomas) for whom our author 
 always professes the greatest respect, esteem, and gra 
 titude. In the amiable family of this excellent man, 
 master Woodworth remained one winter, during which 
 time he was taught the English and Latin grammars, 
 and made some proficiency in the study of the classics; 
 but the unprofitable employment of writing verses, con 
 siderably retarded his more useful pursuits. He pre 
 ferred a puff of present praise, to a real future good ; 
 and his advancement in life has ever since been op 
 posed by the same unpropitious attachment to an art, 
 which 
 
 " Found Mm poor at first, and keeps him so." 
 
 The reverend preceptor was so highly pleased with 
 his pupil s docility, quickness of apprehension and 
 strength of memory, that he began to contrive ways 
 and means for giving him a liberal education. It is 
 true that his own salary was very limited ; yet, after 
 consulting with several of his more wealthy parishioners, 
 he found so much reason to anticipate success, that he 
 imparted the project to the enraptured boy, who could 
 hardly contain his joy at the prospect of his most ardent 
 wish being at length gratified. 
 
 But the good clergyman and his unfortunate pupil 
 were both destined to be disappointed. No one came 
 forward to aid in the benevolent design time rolled 
 on and his friends began to remind him that it would 
 be necessary to learn some trade by which he might 
 procure a livelihood. His feelings, at this time, could 
 not have been pleasant, if we may be allowed to judge 
 from the following extract from his poem of 
 1* 
 
SKETCH OF THE 
 
 VEX, published several years afterward, in which he 
 alludes to the disappointment of his hopes of obtaining 
 u collegiate education. See page 245 of this volume. 
 
 Ami here the muse bewails her hapless bard, 
 Whose cruel fate such golden prospects marr d ; 
 *For Hope once whispered to his ardent breast, 
 " Thy dearest, fondest wish, shall be possessed ; J? 
 Unfolded to his view the classic page, 
 And all its treasures promised ripening age ; 
 Showed Learning s flowery path which led to Fame. 
 Whose distant temple glittered with his name. 
 Illusive all ! the phantom all believe, 
 Though still we know her promises deceive ; 
 Chill penury convinced the wretch, too late, 
 Her words were false, and his a hapless fate. 
 
 He chose the profession of a Printer ; and after bid 
 ding adieu to his native town, and his weeping friends, 
 travelled to the metropolis of his native state, and bound 
 himself an apprentice to Benjamin Russell, esq. editor 
 and publisher of the Columbian Centincl, with whom 
 he continued until the term of his apprenticeship ex 
 pired, in 1806. During this period, he still employed his 
 leisure hours in writing poetry for the different period 
 ical publications then issued in Boston, under various 
 signatures, but generally that of SELIM. He has not, 
 however, retained copies of any of these productions. 
 
 On the expiration of his apprenticeship, he began to 
 be actuated by a new excitement ; which was nothing 
 more or less tjjan a desire of taking an extensive tour 
 through the United States, for the purpose of writing a 
 description of his travels. He found it impracticable, 
 however, to gratify this inclination, and therefore con 
 tinued in the office of his former employer for more 
 than a year; when, through an easy, yielding disposi 
 tion, he suffered himself to be drawn into some hazard- 
 
AUTHOR S I vn 
 
 ous speculations, the unfortunate result of which render 
 ed a temporary absence from his native state necessary 
 to the preservation of his personal liberty. 
 
 He now directed his views to the south, as the course 
 which he had long sighed to pursue : but found himself 
 entirely destitute of the means of conveying himself 
 thither. A friend, however, to whom he acknowledges 
 himself under many essential obligations, and for whom 
 he has ever professed the most ardent esteem, furnish 
 ed him with sufficient funds to commence his tour ; 
 and as he expected to procure employment in the differ 
 ent towns through which he was to pass, he had no 
 doubt of being able to reach New- York without suffer 
 ing any inconvenience. 
 
 This expectation was the source of another severe 
 disappointment; for, after vainly applying at every 
 printing establishment in the various villages on the 
 road, he at length found himself in the city of New- 
 Haven, a stranger, with blistered feet, and an empty 
 purse. Here he was compelled to pause, until he could 
 receive from his generous friend in Boston, a small re 
 mittance, (for which he immediately wrote) that would 
 enable him to reach New- York. Fortunately, he was 
 genteelly dressed, and found no difficulty in procuring 
 decent lodgings ; and as he had, by this time, acquired 
 a little knowledge of human nature from experience, he 
 was too prudent to expose his poverty, and was. there 
 fore, treated with respect. 
 
 In a few clays the mail brought him the expected 
 remittance from his friend 5 which, as the reader rnav 
 easily suppose, arrived very opportunely, although he 
 had, the day before, procured employment, for an inde 
 finite term, in the office of Mr. Babcock. 
 
 Finding himself once more comfortably situated, he 
 again gave a loose reign to his natural disposition, by 
 scribbling verses, falling in love, and forming acquaint 
 ances. But though it must be confessed that his tuste for 
 
viii SKETCH OF THE 
 
 social pleasures too often got the start of prudence, and 
 left economy in the back-ground, still his actions were 
 ever governed by the strictest precepts of morality. This 
 we assert on the testimony of those who have known 
 him intimately., and enjoyed his confidence for more 
 than fifteen years. 
 
 In Babcock s office he continued about nine months, 
 contributing, weekly, to the Herald, the productions of 
 his pen ; when he imprudently resolved to establish a 
 literary publication of his own ; for the printing of 
 which he procured a press and types on his own credit, 
 and commenced the hazardous enterprise with all those 
 sanguine hopes which attend ardent minds untempcred 
 by experience. We now behold him the editor, pub 
 lisher, printer, and (more than once) carrier, of a weekly 
 paper, entitled the Eelles-Lettres Repository, dedicated 
 to the ladies, and comprising eight pages, medium 
 quarto subscription price, two dollars per year, paya 
 ble quarterly in advance. 
 
 As might have been expected, the cash received in 
 advance was insufficient to support the expenses of the 
 establishment for two months ; when our young editor 
 awoke from his dream of love, fame, and fortune, to a 
 feeling sense of his real unfortunate situation. The 
 publication of the Repository was, of course, immediately 
 suspended, the printing materials returned to their 
 original proprietor, and the inconsiderate adventurer 
 found himself burdened with debts which he had no 
 means of discharging. No time was to be lost ; and, 
 after compromising with some, submitting to the curses 
 of others, lavishing fair promises on all, and venting his 
 feelings in a poem of more than 600 lines, he left the city. 
 By a few weeks employment in Hartford, he was ena 
 bled to return to Boston, after an absence of about 
 twelve months, and from thence to his paternal home 
 
 " The pale, dejected picture of despair." 
 
AUTHOR S LIFE. ix 
 
 After spending a few days in Scituate, he again set 
 out on foot, in search of fame and fortune ; assuring his 
 friends, in the most solemn manner, that he would never 
 again revisit the spot of his birth, unless he was accom 
 panied or preceded by one or both of the objects of 
 his pursuit. This was the commencement of another 
 painful separation, which has not yet terminated. 
 
 We next find our author in Baltimore, where, during 
 the summer of 1808, the newspapers were repeatedly 
 enriched with the productions of his pen, both in prose 
 and verse. In the following spring he proceeded to the 
 city of New-York, where he has ever since continued 
 to reside. In 1810, he formed an attachment for an ami 
 able young lady to whom he was soon afterward united 
 in wedlock, and with whom he continues to enjoy every 
 happiness that can flow from a union founded on reci 
 procal affection, in a sphere of life but one grade re 
 moved from penury and want. They are, however, 
 blest with resigned and contented dispositions, placid 
 tempers, and four beautiful children, worth more to them 
 than all the treasures of Peru. 
 
 During the recent contest between the United States 
 and Great Britain, Mr. Woodworth conducted a quarto 
 weekly paper, in New-York, entitled " THE WAR/ and 
 also, at the same time, a Monthly Magazine, called the 
 " Halcyon Luminary, and Theological Repository," 
 devoted to the promulgation of the doctrines of the New- 
 Jerusalem, of which our author has for several years 
 been a sincere professor, and for some time a licentiate 
 of that church in the city of New- York. Neither of the 
 above publications, however, were profitable to the con 
 ductor, who was compelled to sell his office without 
 meeting all the demands to which the expenses of the 
 establishment had rendered it liable. 
 
 Discouraged by these repeated failures, his naturally 
 enterprising spirit was depressed, and he felt no inclina 
 tion to commence any new undertaking on his own 
 
SKETCH OF THE 
 
 responsibility. He therefore applied for and obtained 
 the situation of foreman., in the office of a daily ga/ette, 
 called the Columbian, where he continued until the 
 first of March, 1816, when Mr. C. N. Baldwin, con 
 tracted with him, u to write a history of the late War^ 
 in the style of a romance, to be entitled the CHAMPIONS 
 OP FREEDOM." 
 
 Woodworth was already known to the public as the 
 author of several Poems, which had met a very flatter 
 ing reception ; but the character of a novelist was alto 
 gether new to him, and he consequently undertook the 
 task with no small share of diffidence, in addition to 
 other embarrassments under which he laboured in the 
 task assigned him, with a brief account of which we 
 shall close this memoir. 
 
 In writing the Champions of Freedom, the author 
 was confined, by the conditions of his engagement with 
 the publisher, within a compass circumscribed by the 
 latter. By these conditions he was compelled to con 
 nect fiction with truth; and, at all events, to give a 
 complete and correct account of the late war, however 
 much the history of his hero and heroine might suffer 
 in consequence. But this is not all ; it is a fact, which 
 we advance on the testimony of persons concerned, that 
 the work was put to press as soon as two sheets were 
 written ; and that the author was often compelled to 
 deliver his unrevised manuscript to the waiting compo 
 sitor a dozen lines at a time ! This work was com 
 menced in March, and ready for delivery in the October 
 following ; during the most of which period, the author 
 faithfully discharged the duties of foreman in the office 
 where it was printed. 
 
 In the few hints here thrown out, the reader will find 
 a sufficient clue to guide him in tracing, through the 
 following pages, the life and character of the author. 
 This volume may be considered as the abstract of his 
 soul, without disguise or embellishment. The different 
 
AUTHOR S LIFE. xi 
 
 situations in which he has been placed, and the various 
 feelings resulting therefrom, are all faithfully represent 
 ed and expressed in the tones of his lyre, as they are 
 taught alternately to change 
 
 u From grave to gay -from lively to severe" 
 All will immediately perceive, what is actually the case, 
 that he is candid almost to a fault ; carrying, as it were, 
 his heart in his hand, without making the least attempt 
 to conceal a blemish, or to heighten a beauty. His at 
 tachments, it will be seen, are sincere and ardent his 
 resentments, warm and evanescent. Though an en 
 thusiast in love he is a philosopher in religion ; exam 
 ining every doctrine by the light of revelation and rea 
 son, before he adopts it as an article of his faith : and 
 however his creed may vary from our own, it is impos 
 sible that, we should doubt the sincerity of its professor. 
 His life is moral his conversation chaste his man 
 ners modest and unassuming. Without taking the lead 
 in conversation, he always adds something to its inter 
 est ; and, though he seldom dazzles, he is ever sure to 
 enlighten. Without prepossessing strangers in his favour 
 at first sight, he possesses the faculty of stealing their 
 affection, before they are aware of its being excited. 
 In one word he is a good citizen, a faithful friend, an 
 affectionate husband, a tender parent, and an honest 
 man. Of his merits as a Poet the public have now 
 an opportunity of judging for themselves. 
 
 A few brief remarks on the volume before us, and we 
 have done : 
 
 Most of the smaller pieces contained in this volume, 
 have already appeared before the public, in different 
 periodical journals, under the signature of SELIM. But 
 so little value was attached to them by the author, that 
 lie not only neglected to retain copies of them, but has 
 frequently been unable to recognize his own mental 
 offspringj after a few years absence, until convinced of 
 
xii SKETCH, 
 
 their legitimacy by the evidence of circumstances, or 
 the testimony of his friends. Our correspondents in 
 Boston and Baltimore have recommended more than 
 fifty pieces for this collection, the copies of which we 
 have not yet been able to procure; but if encouragement 
 should be given to publish a second volume of Wood- 
 worth s Poems, we shall spare no pains to obtain them. 
 
 ABRAHAM ASTEN, 
 
 MATTHIAS LOPEZ. 
 
 NEW-YORK, March j 1818. 
 
WtiODWORTETS POEJUS. 
 
 THE MINSTREL. 
 
 How happy is the Minstrel s lot, 
 
 Whose song each care beguiles ; 
 The frowns of fortune fright him not, 
 
 Nor does he court her smiles. 
 Contented with his tuneful lyre, 
 
 His art can yield the rest; 
 He pours his soul along the wire, 
 
 And rapture fires his breast. 
 2 
 
WOOD WORTH S. Moral and 
 
 The Minstrel. 
 
 He envies not the power of kings, 
 
 With all their glittering toys ; 
 The tones that warble from his strings, 
 
 Impart sublimer joys. 
 He builds a world of airy bliss, 
 
 Where love erects his throne ; 
 And though his fancy frame the kiss, 
 
 Its sweets are all his own. 
 
 What though no wealth his song repays. 
 
 Nor laurels deck his lyre j 
 The glow he catches from its lays, 
 
 Is bliss supremely higher. 
 What though his fairy pleasures seem 
 
 Illusion s shapeless toys 
 He would not lose so sweet a dream, 
 
 For all your waking joys. 
 
Sentimental. WOOD WORTH S. 15 
 
 The Flowers of Life. 
 
 THE FLOWERS OF LIFE. 
 
 The ills of LIFE S journey how many complain of, 
 Who swear not a flow ret is found in the road ! 
 
 But the evils they censure I laugh at the pain of, 
 While sweet smiling Cheerfulness lightens the load. 
 
 Though I find not a rose, I indulge not in sorrow, 
 But pluck with Contentment a daisy to-day ; 
 
 Nay, even a sprig will feed Hope for the morrow, 
 The humblest that nods to the zephyr of May. 
 
 Let others dispute, HI avoid their dissention, 
 Religious, political, moral, or such ; 
 For the lily of Peace thus escapes their attention, 
 And the sweet bud of Pleasure which blooms at my 
 touch. 
 
 The blossom of Friendship, surviving mortality, 
 I ll carefully cherish and wear in my breast ; 
 
 Though its picture may boast brighter hues than reality .> 
 Its fragrance directs me when doubtful the test. 
 
 The spirit of feeling, the soul of affection, 
 Wildly ardent in rapture, and melting in wo, 
 
 Whatever its image, attire, or complexion, 
 
 With mine shall commingle in sympathy s glow. 
 
l(j WOODWORTH S. Moral and 
 
 The Flowers of Life. 
 
 I ask not his birth-place, whatever the region, 
 Hot, temperate, frigid despotic or free ; 
 
 I ask not his politics, creed or religion, 
 
 A Turk, Jew, or Christian he s still dear to me. 
 
 But ah ! there s a flower which. tho teeming with nectar. 
 
 Beneath its fair aspect screen s Misery s dart, 
 "So artfully veiFd that it mocks a detecter, 
 
 Till press d to the bosom it pierces the heart. 
 
 But still to a bosom susceptibly placid, 
 
 The anguish of Love will but heighten its joy: 
 
 As the bev rage uniting a sweet with an acid 
 Is grateful, when nectar untemper d would cloy. 
 
 The bramble of Avarice others may nourish, 
 
 Exhausting Life s soil of its virtues and strength ; 
 
 I ll stray where the plants of Beneficence flourish, 
 And the generous vine winds its serpentine length. 
 
 Let misers pursue their mean sordid employment, 
 And hoard up their treasures for life s latest scenes ; 
 
 I ll waste not the moments allow d for enjoyment. 
 Nor squander the season in gaining the means. 
 
 Our object is happiness ne er coulcl we miss it, 
 In life s varied path, if the talent were ours 
 
 From all we encounter some good to elicit, 
 
 As bees gather sweets from the meanest of flowers. 
 
WOOD WORTH S. 
 
 The Flowers of Life - Evening. 
 
 Then pluck every blossom of Happiness blooming ; 
 
 Leave birds of contention and play with the dove j 
 And our path, soon the flush of enchantment assuming^ 
 
 Will glow an Elysium of Pleasure and Love. 
 
 EVENING. 
 
 : Tis pleasant, when the world is still, 
 
 And EVENING S mantle shrouds the vale. 
 To hear the pensive whip-poor-will 
 
 Pour her deep notes along the dale ; 
 While through the self-taught rustic s flute 
 
 Wild warblings wake upon the gale, 
 And from each thicket, marsh, and tree, 
 The cricket, frog, and Katy-dee, 
 With various notes assist the glee, 
 
 Nor once through all the night are mute. 
 
 The streamlet murmurs o er its bed, 
 The wanton zephyrs kiss its breast, 
 
 Bid the green bulrush bend its head, 
 
 And sigh through groves in foliage dress d ; 
 
 While Cynthia, from her silver horn, 
 
 Throws magic shades o er EVENING S vest 5 
 2* 
 
18 WOOD WORTH S. Jtt oral md 
 
 Evening. 
 
 Sheds smiles upon the brow of Night, 
 Not dazzling, like Day s shower of light, 
 But soft as dew, which mocks the sight 
 Till seen to sparkle on the thorn. 
 
 ? Tis then the hour for sober thought, 
 
 To leave this little world behind ; 
 To traverse paths which Newton taught, 
 
 And rove the boundless realms of mind ; 
 Till Pride reluctant lifts the mask, 
 
 And shows the boasting mortal blind 5 
 Then the warm soul, intent to stray, 
 Would joyful shake its clogs away, 
 And, bursting from its bonds of clay ; 
 
 Pursue its glad, progressive task. 
 
 TO JULIA. 
 
 While Folly s shrine attracts the fair, 
 Blame not the beaux who worship there : 
 If gods for you took meaner shapes, 
 No wonder we descend to apes ; 
 Let Beauty smile on WORTH alone, 
 And fops and fools will not be known. 
 
Sentimental. WOODWORTH S. 19 
 
 Song. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 I love to hear the flute s sweet notes, 
 On Zephyr s balmy pinion borne ; 
 While soft the melting cadence floats, 
 And sighing echoes wake to mourn 5 
 Stealing on th enraptur d ear, 
 
 At the closing hour of day, 
 Wildly warbling, sweet and clear, 
 Grateful as affection s tear, 
 Then in murmurs die away. 
 
 I love to hear, when blushing morn 
 
 Tips the clouds with rosy hue, 
 The new-wak d lark salute the dawn. 
 His matin song of praise renew, 
 Singing as he skims the plain, 
 Or directs his flight above ; 
 Waking all the tuneful train, 
 To begin the sylvan strain, 
 Harmonizing every grove. 
 
 I love to hear, when mid-day heat 
 With listless languor fills the brain, 
 
 Deep in some shady, cool retreat, 
 The distant waterfall complain, 
 As it leaps the craggy mound, 
 
WOODWORTH ST Moral on, 
 
 FrienJahip. 
 
 Pouring down the rocky height., 
 Foaming o er the pebbled ground, 
 Bidding echo swell the sound, 
 
 While it sparkles on the sight. 
 
 But when with her, whose image dwells 
 
 Within my glowing breast, I stray, 
 The music more divinely swells, 
 
 The lark more sweetly tunes his lay ; 
 While beneath the shade we rove, 
 
 Murmuring streamlets sooth the ear, 
 Thro the calm sequestered grove, 
 Echo whispers only love 
 Cupids only, hover near. 
 
 FRIENDSHIP. 
 
 What power can prop a sinking soul, 
 
 Oppress d with woes and sick of grief^ 
 Bid the warm tear forbear to roll, 
 Despair s heart-rending sigh control, 
 And whisper sweet relief ? 
 
 Friendship ! sweet balm for sorrow r s smart, 
 In thee the soothing power is found, 
 
 To heal the lacerated heart, 
 
 Extract affliction s venom d dart, 
 And close the rankling wound. 
 
Sentimental. WOODWORTH S*. 9J. 
 
 Friendship 
 
 When piercM by grief s chill tempest through, 
 The tendril bends beneath its power, 
 
 Thou canst the broken plant renew : 
 
 Thy sacred tear, like heavenly dew, 
 Revives the drooping flower. 
 
 If Fortune frown- if Health depart, 
 
 Or death divide the tenderest tie, 
 Friendship can raise the sinking heart, 
 A glow of real joy impart, 
 
 And wipe the tearful eye. 
 
 If foes without attack our name, 
 
 Or foes within assault our peace, 
 Then Friendship s pure celestial flame, 
 Can soothe the mind defend our fame, 
 
 And bid assailants cease. 
 
 If hopeless Love our bliss destroy, 
 
 And fill the breast with black despair, 
 All peace such sufferers can enjoy, 
 Is built by Friendship s kind employ, 
 Which lessens every care. 
 
 Come, then, sweet power, of source divine, 
 
 For ever glow within my breast ; 
 My earliest friend be ever mine, 
 One link our hearts in union join, 
 
 To make each other blest. 
 
WOOD WORTH S. Moral and 
 
 The Tomb of Henry. 
 
 THE TOMB OF HENRY. 
 
 Where Hudson s murmuring billows 
 Kiss Jersey s verdant shore, 
 
 Beneath those spreading, willows 
 Sleeps Henry of the moor. 
 
 The pride of all the plain 
 
 Was Anna s chosen swain : 
 But Anna weeps, for Henry sleeps 
 
 Beneath the weeping willow tree. 
 
 They loved with pure affection, 
 Their artless souls were true; 
 
 The promising connexion 
 
 Their friends with rapture view. 
 
 And name the morn of May 
 
 Their happy wedding day. 
 But Anna weeps, for Henry sleeps 
 
 Beneath the weeping willow tree. 
 
 They hail the rising morrow, 
 Which dawns to see them blest ; 
 
 But ah ! ere eve, what sorrow 
 Fills Anna s lovely breast . 
 
 She sees the Hudson s wave 
 
 Become her Henry s grave ; 
 And Anna weeps, for Henry sleeps 
 
 Beneath the- weeping willow tree. 
 
Sentimental. WOOD WORTH S. 
 
 The Tomb of Henry. 
 
 She tears her flowing tresses, 
 Invokes his parted breath, 
 
 And with her wild caresses 
 Invites him back from death; 
 
 But ah ! her lip s warm kiss 
 
 Imparts no glow to his ! 
 And Anna weeps, for Henry sleeps 
 
 Beneath the weeping willow tree. 
 
 She sees beneath the willow 
 
 Her lover laid to rest, 
 The earth his nuptial pillow, 
 
 And not her virgin breast. 
 Around his verdant tomb 
 The early daisies bloom ; 
 There Anna weeps, there Henry sleeps 
 Beneath the weeping willow tree. 
 
24 WOODWORTH S. Moral and 
 
 Edwin Delisie. 
 
 EDWIN DELISLE. 
 
 The battle was ended whose direful commotion 
 
 Gave tyrants the victims unclaim d by the wave. 
 And the last ray of Phoebus illumin d the ocean, 
 
 As it shot o er the land of the ill-fated brave. 
 The western breeze wafted the ship o er the main, 
 
 Far, far from their country and Liberty s smile ; 
 Each captive enshackled with tyranny s chain, 
 
 The noblest of whom was young Edwin Delisle. 
 
 Apart from his comrades, his manly breast bleeding 
 
 With anguish too piercing for nature to bear, 
 Distracted he view d his dear country receding, 
 
 And bade it adieu in a tone of despair. 
 Ci O region of happiness, freedom and peace ! 
 
 Columbia, adieu ! not for Edwin you smile, 
 For soon with his sorrows existence must cease, 
 
 For rent is the heart of poor Edwin Delisle ! 
 
 Eliza ! my angel ! fate dooms us to sever, 
 
 Tho brought to the climate that fosters thy charms j 
 In sight of my country, I lose it for ever, 
 
 In view of my love, I am torn from her arms ! 
 Three times have the seasons their circle fulfill d, 
 
 Since Edwin was blest with affection "s sweet smile, 
 Since press d to his bosom, Eliza he held, 
 
 As she siglrd a farewell to her Edwin Delisle. 
 
Sentimental. WOODWORTH S. 25 
 
 Edwin Delisle - Autumnal 
 
 < Three years shall restore me, I cried, as we perted ; 
 
 The term has expired, and my eye caught the shore ; 
 Hope flatterd, then left to despair, broken-hearted, 
 
 The wretch for whom freedom and joy are no more. 
 The shadows of eve shroud thy land from my view, 
 
 But ah ! there s another where joys ever smile . 
 God of mercy, forgive me ! Eliza, adieu I" 
 
 He plung d and the waves cover d Edwin Delisle. 
 
 AUTUMNAL REFLECTIONS. 
 
 The season of flowers is fled, 
 The pride of the garden decay d, 
 
 The sweets of the meadow are dead, 
 And the blushing parterre disarray d. 
 
 The blossom-deck ? d garb of sweet May. 
 
 Enamell d with hues of delight, 
 Is exchang d for a mantle less gay, 
 
 And spangled with colours less bright. 
 
 For sober Pomona has won 
 
 The frolicsome Flora s domains, 
 
 And the work the gay goddess begun ? 
 The height of maturity gains. 
 3 
 
26 WOOD WORTH S. .Moral and 
 
 Autumnal Reflection*. 
 
 But though less delightful to view, 
 The charms of ripe autumn appear, 
 
 Than spring s richly varied hue, 
 That infantile age of the year : 
 
 Yet now, and now only, we prove 
 
 The uses by nature design d ; 
 The seasons were sanction d to move, 
 
 To please less than profit mankind. 
 
 Regret the lost beauties of May, 
 
 But the fruits of those beauties enjoy ; 
 
 The blushes that dawn with the day, 
 Noon s splendour will ever destroy. 
 
 How pleasing, how lovely appears 
 Sweet infancy, sportive and gay ; 
 
 Its prattle, its smiles, and its tears, 
 Like spring, or the dawning of day ! 
 
 But manhood s the season design d 
 For wisdom, for works, and for use ; 
 
 To ripen the fruits of the mind, 
 
 Which the seeds sown in childhood produce. 
 
 Then infancy s pleasures regret, 
 
 But the fruits of those pleasures enjoy : 
 
 Does spring autumn s bounty beget ? 
 So the Man is begun in the Boy. 
 
Sentimental WOODWORTH S. 
 
 Definition of Beauty imitated from the French. 
 
 ON BEAUTY. 
 
 First published in the "Complete Coiffeur." 
 
 Beauty, sweet mysterious power, 
 Secret spring of all that moves, 
 
 Goddess of the Paphian bower, 
 Mother of the infant loves ; 
 
 Which can make the wicked good, 
 Savage sentiments abolish, 
 
 Melt the hard, refine the rude, 
 
 Teach the clown a courtier s polish ; 
 
 Which can make the simple wise, 
 Or deprive the wise of reason ; 
 
 Bid the statesman sink or rise, 
 Urge to loyalty and treason : 
 
 Now exciting modest fear, 
 
 Now with lawless rudeness firing : 
 Prompting to be faithless here, 
 
 There with constancy inspiring. 
 
 7 Tis the power that banes or blesses. 
 Where shall we its image find ? 
 
 Tis the nymph whose eye expresses 
 Charms belonging to the mind. 
 
WO^DWORTH S. Moral and 
 
 A-V.iess to a Nosegay. 
 
 TO A NOSEGAY. 
 
 Little pledge of fond remembrance, 
 Though thy tints so quickly flee, 
 
 Still the lovely donor s semblance, 
 I can sweetly trace in thee. 
 
 Here the rose and lily twining, 
 Her enchanting face bespeak, 
 
 For the fairest hues, combining, 
 Bloom upon her lovely cheek. 
 
 In this blushing pink which deck d her. 
 
 Glows an emblem of her lip, 
 Both distilling balmy nectar, 
 
 Both inviting mine to sip. 
 
 Tn this violet I discover 
 
 Her sweet eye s cerulean hue, 
 
 Like the brightest star above her, 
 Sparkling in ethereal blue. 
 
 When within my bounding bosom, 
 Mary plac d ye, thus entwin d, 
 
 Sweetly whispering, " do not loose ? em, * 
 Then what rapture fill d my mind I 
 
 
Sentimental WOOD WORTH S. 2.9 
 
 Address to a Nosegay Female Ornaments, from the French. 
 
 But tyrannic Time is dooming 
 
 All your lovely tints to fade ; 
 When you are no longer blooming, 
 
 Can I longer trace the maid ? 
 
 Yes, when all your tints have fadedj 
 
 Fragrance still you will retain ; 
 Though your beauties be degraded^ 
 
 Charms internal will remain. 
 
 Such is Mary youth is passing 
 All her beauties must decay, 
 
 But her mind is still amassing 
 Charms to live an endless day. 
 
 FEMALE ORNAMENTS, 
 
 First published in the " Complete Coiffeur/ 
 
 All hues become a pretty face, 
 For beauty needs no foreign grace j 
 A flower, or any thing, in truth, 
 Will ornament the brow of youth, 
 While sparkling gems may vainly shine 
 Where age and ugliness combine. 
 O, then, be wise, ye gentle fair, 
 And all the ornaments you wear, 
 3* 
 
SO WOODWORTH S. Moral and 
 
 Female Ornaments. 
 
 From Taste instead of Wealth obtain, 
 Nor longer court your glass in vain ; 
 The Prize of Beauty (once decreed, 
 To Paphian Venus, as we read) 
 Was not awarded to the fair 
 For any brilliants in her hair. 
 No, twas her native charms acquired 
 The pize her rivals so desired ; 
 Her face, her neck, her bosom, waist, 
 Her easy negligence and taste, 
 Her attitude, her hair, her eyes 
 With these the goddess won the prize. 
 O, then, ye fair, who seek to please, 
 Cherish simplicity and ease ; 
 Wiih modest taste give no occasion 
 To quote Apelles observation.* 
 Remember, that a grace denied, 
 Was by a bauble ne er supplied. 
 
 * At: ignorant painter Laving decorated the portrait of Helen witk 
 trinkets, Ape! les observed that the picture was "rich in ornament, 
 but pour in beauty," and that the " artist had embellished her with 
 because he had not abilities to paint her beautiful." 
 
 
Sentimental. WOOD WORTH S. SI 
 
 The Wii-jth of Love. 
 
 THE WREATH OF LOVE. 
 
 Let Fame her wreath for others twine ? 
 The fragrant Wreath of Love be mine, 
 
 With balm-distilling blossoms wove ; 
 Let the shrill trumpet s hoarse alarms 
 Bid laurels grace the victor s arms, 
 
 Where Havoc s blood-stain d banners move 
 Be mine to wake the softer notes 
 Where Acidalia s banner floats, 
 
 And wear the gentler Wreath of Love. 
 
 The balmy rose let stoics scorn, 
 
 Let squeamish mortals dread the thorn, 
 
 And fear the pleasing pain to prove 5 
 I ll fearless bind it to my heart, 
 While every pang its thorns impart, 
 
 The floweret s balsam shall remove; 
 For, sweetened by the nectared kiss, 
 ? Tis pain that gives a zest to bliss, 
 
 And freshens still the Wreath of Love. 
 
 Give me contentment, peace and health, 
 A moderate share of worldly wealth, 
 
 And friends such blessings to improve $ 
 A heart to give when Misery pleads, 
 To heal each rankling wound that bleeds. 
 
32 WOODWORTH S. Moral and 
 The Wreath of Love Nature and the Passions. 
 
 And every mental pain remove ; 
 But with these give else all deny 
 The fair for whom I breathe the sigh, 
 
 And wedlock be a Wreath of Love. 
 
 Connubial bliss, unknown to strife, 
 A faithful friend a virtuous wife, 
 
 Be mine for many years to prove : 
 Our wishes one, within each breast 
 The dove of peace shall make her nest ; 
 
 Nor ever from the ark remove ; 
 Till call d to Heav n, through ages there 
 Be ours the blissful lot to wear 
 
 A never-fading Wreath of Love. 
 
 NATURE AND THE PASSIONS. 
 
 The stranger awoke, and with wonder surveyed 
 The unexplor d regions on which she was thrown 
 
 Rude Chaos the scene and the infantile maid 
 Was Nature, just risen from sources unknown. 
 
 Her form, the fair abstract of Infinite thought, 
 The unblemished model of harmony moved ; 
 
 Her accents the spirit of melody taught, 
 
 Her smile was celestial and Heaven approved* 
 
Sentimental. WOOD WORTH S. 33 
 
 Nature and the Passions an Allegory. 
 
 But scarce could the infant existence admire, 
 
 When hosts of rude demons encounter d the child. 
 
 Revenge and rough Anger, with optics of fire, 
 And frenzy-struck Terror, shrieked horribly wild. 
 
 Attended by Rapine, fell Murder appeared, 
 Led onward by Avarice, Malice and Hate ; 
 
 Their snaky crests Envy and Jealousy rear d, 
 As blood-stain d Ambition tore laurels from fate. 
 
 This phalanx of fiends, with Despair in their train, 
 With scourges of scorpions the infant assaiPd, 
 
 And pitiless heard the sweet stranger complain, 
 Deep deluged in sorrow which nothing avail d. 
 
 Compassion beheld and to regions above, 
 In the incense of sighs her petition convey d ; 
 
 Infinity heard, and the answer was Love, 
 Who came in the garb of an angel array d. 
 
 Her presence made cruel Ambition depart, 
 
 Hate, Murder, and Rapine, the goddess confessed 5 
 
 Her touch palsied Malice and blunted his dart, 
 And even lank Avarice opened his breast. 
 
 She spoke and Revenge was subdued by the charm ; 
 
 She smiled and the scene was deserted by Fear ; 
 She sighed and pale Jealousy fled with alarm ; 
 
 She wept and rough Anger dissolved in the tear. 
 
34 
 
 WOODWORTH S. Moral oft 
 
 On hearing a Discourse from the Rev. John Hargrove. 
 
 Her magic the vulture transformed to the dove, 
 And Nature again was delighted and blest 
 
 Thus each ruder passion is subject to Love, 
 The genius that tempers and governs the rest. 
 
 TO THE REV. J. H. 
 
 On hearing him preach on the Pleasures of Religion. 
 
 When o er the sacred desk, with modest grace 
 And lowly meekness, bends thy reverend forjjr, 
 
 While the great theme that animates thy face, 
 Bids every bosom glow with transport warm- 
 
 How could I listen to the heavenly theme, 
 Forget the pleasures that entice me here, 
 
 View human life a transitory dream, 
 
 And wish, with thee, to gain a higher sphere ! 
 
 Go on, thou champion in the cause of truth, 
 ArmM by thy Saviour, still the foe engage ; 
 
 Still charm from vice the steps of ardent youth, 
 And strew with rosy hopes the path of age. 
 
Sentimental. WOOD WORTH S. 35 
 
 To Miss H. with a volume of Montgomery s Poems. 
 
 TO MISS H****, 
 
 With a miniature volume of Montgomery s Poems, as 
 published in 1807. 
 
 Accept, lovely maid, of this little bequest, 
 An advocate certain my suit to obtain ; 
 
 To the generous, feeling, susceptible breast, 
 The muse of MONTGOMERY pleads not in vam. 
 
 And when that sweet eye of cerulean hue, 
 
 Drops the warm tear of pity for virtue distress d, 
 
 Then think of the donor, whose sympathy true, 
 The number thou shed st will engrave on his breast. 
 
 While Switzerland s Wanderer* draws on thy heart 
 For the tribute which sentiment e er must bestow .; 
 
 Then think of thy friend, in a far distant part, 
 A Wanderer, pressed with his portion of wo. 
 
 And when o er the Grave thou art bending with pain, 
 But a pain not unmingled with pensive delight, 
 
 Let one gem of pity be shed for the swain 
 
 Who is buried to pleasure, when banish d thy sight. 
 
 * The words in italics are the titles of the several poems which this 
 ittle volume contained. 
 
36 WOOD WORTH S. Moral and 
 
 To Miss H. with a volume of Montgomery s Poems. 
 
 While the tones of the Lyre brighten sadness to joy, 
 And thou hear st with fond rapture its solacing lays, 
 
 Remember the youth whose delightful employ 
 Is to sing to his Lyre while it warbles thy praise. 
 
 The Remonstrance to Winter is heard and obey ? d, 
 And Flora unfolds every beautiful hue ; 
 
 But remember, tho 7 nature in spring is array d, 
 To me all is Winter while absent from you. 
 
 The Fowler s simplicity cannot but please, 
 Religion has beauties that never can cloy ; 
 
 While the sweet Joy of Grief enraptures with these, 
 Think of him who has likewise perus d them with joy. 
 
 Alexandria s fierce Battle admire, not approve, 
 But haste from the scene to the Pillow for rest ; 
 
 On the pinion of fancy then pensively rove, 
 
 But let thy friend s image still dwell in thy breast. 
 
 View Brown with compassion, breathe pity s soft sigh. 
 For sufferings unmerited, cruel, unjust ; 
 
 But smile on the Thunder-storm rolling on high, 
 ; Tis the voice of thy God, but he wars not with dust. 
 
 Hail the brave Volunteers of fam d Albion s isle, 
 And cherish the patriot glow in thy breast ; 
 
 St. Marias ancient Vigil a tear may beguile, 
 
 Thy friend then remember, like Edwin distressed, 
 
Sentimental. WOOD WORTH S. 37 
 
 Montgomery s Poems Laura of Flathush. 
 
 The Field-flower and Snow-drop have charms for thine 
 eye, 
 
 Sweet emblems of innocence, virtue and love 
 !But the Common Lot waits us we live but to die $ 
 
 And die but to live in the mansions above. 
 
 Remember thy friend is the donor s request, 
 And this Advocate proffers his suit to obtain ; 
 
 To the generous, feeling, susceptible breast, 
 The muse of Montgomery pleads not in vain. 
 
 FLATBUSH. 
 
 I came when the beauties of Summer were glowing 
 
 On the bosom of Nature, the fields and the groves, 
 When the balm-freighted zephyrs were pleasantly 
 
 blowing, 
 
 And the sweet woodland choristers warbled their 
 loves : 
 
 But when I beheld the angelic expression 
 
 That play d o er the visage of I. aura, the while, 
 
 "I said for my bosom approved the confession 
 Tis here that pleased Nature has borrowed her smile. 
 4 
 
38 WOODWORTH S. Moral and 
 
 Miss Laura A******, of Flatbush, L. I. 
 
 And I came when the tempests of Winter were raging 
 O er the frost-whiten d meadows, and ravaged the 
 
 plains 5 
 
 When the fields nor the woodlands were longer en 
 gaging? 
 Nor the groves longer echo d their choristers 7 strains. 
 
 And I sigh d at the change, while in accents of sorrow, 
 I ask d where the roses of Summer were fled ; 
 
 Grief rais d her moist eye, and then pointed to Laura 
 Ah! cruel disease ! Laura s roses were dead ! 
 
 How sadly expressive was each pallid feature ! 
 
 How meek shone her eye ? neath a forehead of snow ! 
 like an angel appeard the sweet suffering creature, 
 
 Just quitting, for heaven, the regions below. 
 
 And I thought, if some youth was but blest with her 
 favour, 
 
 How might he exclaim, in the accents of wo, 
 Take me with her to heaven, if nothing can save her. 
 
 Or stay, lovely angel ! my heaven below ! 
 
Sentimental. WOODWORTH S. 39 
 
 The Meeting or the Husband s Return. 
 
 THE MEETING. 
 
 I saw them meet the pangs of absence o er, 
 And MEMORY holds a picture of the place : 
 
 ? Twas at the threshold of her cottage door, 
 ELIZA met her husband s warm embrace. 
 
 How animated shone her eager eye, 
 
 Where joy s delicious tear suspended hung ! 
 
 Her bosom heav d but pleasure rais d the sigh ; 
 Her voice was mute but bliss had seal d her tongue. 
 
 Press d in his arms, the chaste connubial kiss, 
 Her nectar cl lips by turns received and gave 5 
 
 Then, as ashamed of the excessive bliss, 
 
 Her love-died blush she bids his bosom save. 
 
 But recollection whisper d yet a joy 
 
 Twas hers to give ; and from the trance she starts- 
 Puts in his arms their little infant boy, 
 
 Love s precious pledge, that closer binds their hearts. 
 
 While round their sire the elder prattlers cling ; 
 
 Beg for a kiss ; their little tales recite ; 
 Each emulous some trifling boon to bring, 
 
 And share their parents unalloy d delight. 
 
40 WOODWORTH S. Moral and 
 
 The Meeting Fashion. 
 
 Forgotten now is separation s smart, 
 Or but remembered as the zest of joy ; 
 
 Her smiles are sunshine to his gladden d heart s 
 And love-created fears no more annoy. 
 
 So, wrapped in night, the lonely pilgrim views 
 AURORA, blushing, throw her veil aside ; 
 
 And, fill d with joy, his lighted path pursues, 
 Whence erst bewilder d he had wander d wide. 
 
 And is it joy that fills my eyes ? I cried 
 Ah, no ! regret, that such was not my lot ; 
 
 But yet to envy twas so near allied, 
 
 J blushrd and sighing, left the happy spot. 
 
 FASHION. 
 
 To tyrant Fashion all must yield, 
 
 He rules with sway despotic, 
 And he who dares contest the field, 
 
 Must be indeed Quixotic. 
 But though, when he appears, we must. 
 
 Like courteous slaves, receive him ; 
 The wise will ne er embrace him Jirst, 
 
 Nor be the last to leave him. 
 
Sentimental. WOOD WORTH S. 41 
 
 Love in Camp or the Rat-tat-too. 
 
 LOVE IN CAMP. 
 
 Sounds of war were swelling wild^ 
 
 Fearful notes the bugle blew j 
 Infant Love, a timid child, 
 
 Trembled at the rat-tat-too. 
 But inspired by Valour s breath, 
 
 Love with war familiar grew, 
 Fearless view d the strife of death ; 
 
 Smiled to hear the rat-tat-too. 
 
 Swift a shaft at Valour s heart, 
 
 From the infant s bow-string flew; 
 Valour heeded not the dart, 
 
 Listening to the rat-tat-too. 
 Yet that dart was tipp d with red, 
 
 Ella s heart-blood lent the hue 5 
 But in vain had Ella bled, 
 
 Valour loved the rat-tat-too. 
 
 Through the camp the infant stray d, 
 
 Hope receding now from view 5 
 Secret griefs his sighs betray d, 
 
 Mingling with the rat-tat-too. 
 Valour will not yield to Love, 
 
 Hope to Ella bids adieu ; 
 Sad, desponding, widow d dove y 
 
 Listless to the rat-tat-too. 
 4* 
 
42 WOODWORTH S. Amatory, 
 
 To Catharine Yes, or No? 
 
 TO CATHARINE. 
 
 The groves their vernal sweets have lost, 
 
 No blossoms now perfume the gale, 
 The lawns are silver d o er with frost, 
 
 And autumn lingers in the vale. 
 But do the seasons, as they roll, 
 
 Affect the heart with joy and wo ? 
 Can autumn thus depress the soul 5 
 
 Or spring elate it ? Yes, or no ? 
 
 The grove again shall yield its shade, 
 
 And vernal sweets perfume the gale, 
 The modest violet deck the glade, 
 
 And richest verdure clothe the vale. 
 But will the flower of hope survive, 
 
 And gain from spring a brighter glow ? 
 A smile, sweet maid r would bid it thrive, 
 
 Wilt thou bestow it ? Yes, or no ? 
 
 
Amatory. WOODWORTH S. 43 
 
 A Kiss defined Variety. 
 
 A KISS. 
 
 Does Eliza remember, ere fashion bad taught her 
 To lend the heart s impulse hypocrisy s guise, 
 
 How oft, in our plays, to my bosom I caught her, 
 And wonder d a touch could so brighten the eyes? 
 
 Familiar to me is the sweet recollection, 
 
 How the warmth of her lips taught my visage to glow. 
 While the flush that responsive illum d her complexion, 
 
 Seem d roses promiscuously scatter d on snow. 
 
 And I ask d, from what source sprang the feelings which 
 raptured, 
 
 And bade through my pulses such ecstacies roll, 
 The charm which reflection bewilder d and captured i 
 
 A Kiss was the answer it melted my soul. 
 
 VARIETY. 
 
 The noblest talent Love can claim, 
 Is never to appear the same ; 
 For tis Variety alone, 
 That props the urchin-tyrant s throne. 
 So do the seasons as they range, 
 Afford new pleasure when they change 5 
 The sweetest flower would cease to cheer ? 
 Should fragrant spring bloom all the year. 
 
44 WOODWORTH S. Amatory. 
 
 The Journey of Love. 
 
 THE JOURNEY OF LOVE. 
 
 Now Anteros lend me thy gossamer pinion, 
 
 And teach me the speed of Armata s sweet dove, 
 
 I fly to the seat of thy blissful dominion, 
 
 For Catharine s breast is the mansion of love. 
 
 No longer shall Fortune be whelm d with invective, 
 If my journey the goddess but bless with her smile.; 
 
 I heed not its length, while I view in perspective 
 The sharer, rewarder, and end of my toil. 
 
 If love has its sorrows, yet, who would refuse ? em, 
 So sweetened with rapture^ so mingled with joy ? 
 
 What mortal the rose would discard from his bosom, 
 Lest the thorn which attends it should chance to 
 annoy ? 
 
 Separation was such but the wound it inflicted 
 Will soon be forgot in the glow of a kiss ; 
 
 Though grief on the visage has oft been depicted, 
 The tear shall soon glisten a tribute of bliss. 
 
 Ah ! still on my vision the object increases f 
 The cottage of peace and affection I spy! 
 
 Hope smiles, as my bosom, unconscious, releases 
 The murmur of wishes respired in a sigh. 
 
Amatory. WOOD WORTH S. 45 
 
 The Journey of Love Good Morning. 
 
 Now, now am I blest ! But, ah ! language it fails me, 
 No pencil can paint love s ecstatic alarms : 
 
 Tis she that approaches tis Catharine hails me, 
 She gazes ! she smiles ! I am press d in her arms ! 
 
 GOOD MORNING. 
 
 The blushing precursor of Phoebus expands 
 
 The crystalline portals of light ; 
 And scatters the dew-dripping tints from her hands. 
 
 To crimson the mantle of Night. 
 Sleep shakes his soft pinions and soars to the sky, 
 
 And with rapture I greet my dear Jane 
 Whose health-flushing visage and soul-beaming eye ? 
 
 Aurora but mimics in vain 
 
 Good Morning. 
 
 Thy presence to me is the dawning of light, 
 And pleasure illumines my breast 5 
 
 But, ah ! in thy absence morn changes to night- 
 Hope sinks like the star of the west. 
 
 Then let us, my fair one, the moments improve 
 Which morning allows us for bliss, 
 
 Let the new-risen clay be devoted to love, 
 And in earnest accept of a kiss 
 
 Good Morning* 
 
46 WOODWORTH S. Amatory. 
 
 Good Morning- Giving and Receiving. 
 
 When evening returns, and in slumber I lie, 
 
 Then fancy the scene shall retrace ; 
 Shall light up anew the soft glance of thine eye, 
 
 And restore me thy blissful embrace. 
 And when through thy lattice Aurora s tints play, 
 
 O fly to the arms of thy swain, 
 With him taste the sweets of the infantile day, 
 
 And hear him repeat on the plain 
 
 Good Morning. 
 
 GIVING AND RECEIVING. 
 
 The suppliant departed, while gratitude s tear 
 In his joy-beaming eye was suspended ; 
 
 My heart bounded light, for my Lydia was near, 
 Who thus the donation commended : 
 
 fs The bosom which softens at Misery s wound, 
 " And proffers the balsam to heal him, 
 
 et With the glow of contentment must joyfully bound- 
 " And such is the breast of my Selim." 
 
 w But which," I exclaim d, as the fair one I press d, 
 While her eye with affection was brighten d, 
 
 ft Receiver or donor, which think you most blest ? 
 66 Whose joy by the action most heighten d ? ?> 
 
Amatory. WOOD WORTH S. 
 
 Giving and Receiving- - Harriet s Favourite Poems. - 
 
 " The being, she answer d, you saved from despair, 
 " Who tastes, by the sudden reversion, 
 
 " Of exquisite bliss a proportionate share, 
 u To the depth of his recent immersion." 
 
 Her answer was sweeten d with love s nectar d kiss, 
 And my breast with the transport was heaving, 
 
 As I owu d, with a sigh,that though giving was bliss, 
 It was faint to the joy of receiving. 
 
 HARRIET S FAVOURITE POEMS. 
 
 When I survey my Harriet s speaking face, 
 
 The smiles that light, the tears that fill her eyes, 
 
 The frown of anger, or the rose s grace, 
 I view the Seasons in succession rise. 
 
 When a glance of affection her optics impart, 
 
 The Pleasures of Hojje are alive in my heart. 
 
 Lost in the theme, when bending o er her lyre, 
 She wakes the tones which fascinate the sou!. 
 
 I view the tlt/ixtrel that 1 most admire, 
 And list in rapture while her numbers roll. 
 
 When absent I yield to reflection s sveet power. 
 
 The Pleasures of Memory shorten the how. 
 
48 WOODWORTH S. Amatory. 
 
 Harriet s Favourite Poems. 
 
 If she, with fondness, chide my ardent kiss, 
 And, with a soft ning smile, forbearance ask, 
 
 Or bid me, with a frown, forego the bliss, 
 I bow submission, but neglect the Task. 
 
 For should she condemn me the bliss to forego, 
 
 In the Grave would I seek for an end of my wo. 
 
 When Fancy through her own creation strays, 
 To promised joy delighting still to cling, 
 
 From her alone, my glowing bosom says, 
 The Pleasures of Imagination spring. 
 
 But when Curiosity rises to vex, 
 
 Then Paradise Lost I impute to the sex. 
 
 I told her thus when in her snowy arms, 
 My yielding form the angel gently strain ? d fj 
 
 And I, bewilder d with a maze of charms, 
 Sigh d in her ear tis Paradise Regained ! 
 
 Retired from elysium the scene to retrace, 
 
 My Night Thoughts re-pictured the tender embrace. 
 
Amaleir. WOODWORTH S. 49 
 
 The Hartford Rose-bud addressed to Miss M. S******d. 
 
 THE ROSE-BUD. 
 
 On the banks of Connecticut s proud winding stream, 
 I pensively wan tier "d, a stranger, unknown ; 
 
 AS the hill-tops around caught the sun s parting beam, 
 And eve s sable vest o er the valleys was thrown. 
 
 A blushing young Rose-bud attracted mine eye, 
 Half opened, its bosom perfumed the soft air, 
 
 As it bow d in response to the zephyr s sweet sigh, 
 And a new-fallen dew-drop was glittering there. 
 
 As I tasted its fragrance, I spoke to the flower, 
 " O flourish, sweet bud ! in my bosom," I cried ; 
 
 **" Thy beauties will solace life s turbulent hour, 
 " Grief loses its gall, when to sweetness allied." 
 
 I said, and had pluck d it, to bloom in my breast, 
 That breast stung by anguish and torn by despair ! 
 
 T3ut my hand was restrain d, and my bosom address d 
 My heart caught the whisper " O pilgrim, forbear I" 
 
 " Taste, taste of its sweetness, but mar not the flower, 
 " O stranger f a wanderer still thou must roan 
 
 fi Once torn from its stalk, it will bloom but an hour ; 
 " Then leave it ; O pilgrim ! twill ilouiish at home* 
 5 
 
50 WOODWORTII S. Amatory. 
 
 The Hose-bud The Pilgrim. 
 
 " But, ah ! if transplanted, a bosom of wo 
 
 " Will chill the fair bud, in a lar-uislaiit clime, 
 
 " A soil deep envelop d in winter s cold snow, 
 
 " VV ill cause the young stranger to droop in its prime." 
 
 I obey d but my eye dropp d a tear on the rose 
 That rose, lovely j^irl ! is an emblem of you 5 
 
 But driven from joys, 1 submit to my woes, 
 And think of your name as I bid them adieu ! 
 
 THE PILGRIM, 
 
 To his fail fellow-traveller from Brookfield to 
 Hartford. 
 
 You saw, dear Mary, or you might have seen, 
 
 How the poor steeds that whirl d us down from B 
 
 Were lash d and urged along, with slackened rein, 
 Or check d and shortened when they ran too free. 
 
 So I, my girl, though (Heaven be praised) no horse, 
 Am sometimes lash d and sometimes curb d by Fate, 
 
 Now hurried forward with resistless force, 
 
 Now check d, and forced against my will to wait. 
 
Amatory. WOODWORTH S. 51 
 
 The Piljrrim addressed to Miss Mary H*********gh. 
 
 I fondly hoped to pass my days at home, 
 And only tread my native rural plains ; 
 
 But Fate forbade, and I am doom d to roam, 
 
 GalFd by her whip, and straightened with her reins. 
 
 I gain d an inn, that promised food and rest, 
 For Joy and Peace were pictured on the sign 5 
 
 I saw the turtle settling in her nest, 
 
 And thought such happiness might soon be mine. 
 
 Vain, foolish thought ! for crack went madam s lash, 
 And I was driven from the loved abode ; 
 
 O er bog and moor, through thick and thin to dash, 
 Without e en hope to cheer me on the road. 
 
 And now, though fostered by your generous care, 
 Blest with your smiles, and friendship s tenderest tie., 
 
 Yet, Jehu-like, she drives me to despair 
 Adieu, dear girl ! for I again must fly. 
 
WOODWORTH S. Amatorr. 
 
 The Sighaddressed to Miss M. H. 
 
 THE SIGH. 
 
 Softly stealing from her breast 
 Ere its lovely keeper knew. 
 Forth a sigh emerging flew : 
 
 I received the trembling guest, 
 Thrilling in my rapturd ear, 
 
 Sinking on my heart to rest, 
 With ecstatic throbbings dear. 
 
 Ah ! dear Mary, luckless fair, 
 You perceived its flight too late : 
 
 Guard such telltale rogues with care : 
 
 For the tidings which they bear 
 Cast the colour of our fate. 
 
 Think you what it told my heart ? 
 
 Twas the messenger of peace, 
 
 Bidding every doubt to cease, 
 Eve^ sorrow to depart ; 
 
 Twas the olive-bearing dove. 
 Guiding hope into the ark ; 
 
 ? Twas the harbinger of love. 
 Flitting from that warm recess 
 
 Where thy thoughts in secret dwell. 
 AVhat thy lips would ne er confess, 
 Though thy suppliant sure to bless. 
 
 This sweet fugitive will tell. 
 
Amatory. WOODWORTH S. 53 
 
 The Sigh To Mary. 
 
 Hark ! it whispers to my heart 
 
 " Hence, with every servile fear 5 
 
 Hope alone may revel here 5 
 Doubt and cold distrust, depart. 
 
 Her s as it responsive heaves, 
 Shall confess the urchin s dart 
 
 Rapture with the anguish leaves. " 
 Tell me not I dream of bliss, 
 
 If I do, still let me sleep, 
 Snatch me not from joy like this 
 The reality to miss ; 
 
 Never wake a wretch to weep. 
 
 TO MARY, 
 
 On hearing her sing the air, from Blue Beard } of 
 " When pensive I thought on my love." 
 
 When torn from the arms of her swain, 
 
 In circles of splendour to move, 
 Sweet FATIMA thus would complain, 
 
 As pensive she thought on her love. 
 
 A palace for her had no charms, 
 Unshared by the youth she adored ; 
 
 But press d in her lov ? d SELIM S arms, 
 A cottage true bliss could afford. 
 5* 
 
:>4 WOOD WORTH S. Amatory. 
 
 To Mary The Reconciliation, a Rondeau. 
 
 Then should fickle Fortune ordain, 
 Your SELIM from hence to remove. 
 
 Will you, while you warble that strain, 
 Bestow a fond thought on your love ? 
 
 Some seraph will waft me the sound, 
 And whisper the joy to my heart ; 
 
 Though absence must cruelly wound, 
 I ll listen, forgetting its smart. 
 
 Then grant that such joy I may find, 
 Should fate ever tear me from thee ; 
 
 For me let the strain be design d 
 Be FATIMA only to me. 
 
 THE RECONCILIATION. 
 
 And did I upbraid you my love ? 
 
 pardon the fault I deplore, 
 For while you thus sweetly reprove, 
 
 1 feel I can never doubt more. 
 .No no no I shall never doubt you more* 
 
 I own I suspected your truth, 
 And envied a rivaPs success $ 
 
 For jealousy pictured a youth 
 
 Whom pity would prompt you to bless. 
 Whom pity pity pity would prompt you to bless. 
 
Amatory, WOODWORTH S. 55 
 
 The Reconciliation a Rondeau. 
 
 And did I upbraid you, my love ? 
 
 pardon the fault I deplore ; 
 For while you thus sweetly reprove, 
 
 1 feel I can never doubt more. 
 
 No no no I shall never doubt you more. 
 
 My doubts I now give to the wind, 
 For Mary is constant as fair, 
 
 Though lately I thought her unkind, 
 And gave myself up to despair. 
 
 Despair despair despair and gave myself up t 
 despair. 
 
 And did I upbraid you, my love ? 
 
 pardon the fault I deplore ; 
 For while you thus sweetly reprove, 
 
 1 feel I can never doubt more. 
 
 No no no I shall never doubt you more. 
 
NOTE. 
 
 Many of the foregoing pieces having appeared in 
 different periodical publications, under the signature of 
 SELIM, produced the following poetical Cm-respondent 
 between the author and an anonymous female writer, 
 assuming the name of ZORAYDA. The New-York Co 
 fymbian was made tJie vehicle of this correspondence. 
 
ANONYMOUS. 57 
 
 Zorayda to Selirn. 
 
 TO SELIM. 
 
 ENCHANTING MINSTREL ! to whose lay 
 My pulses would responsive play 
 Till reason yield her genial sway 
 
 To fascination s power ; 
 I grieve that Fate should be so hard, 
 That Fortune shuns a modern bard, 
 Who vainly asks of Fame reward, 
 
 A laurel or a flower. 
 
 You wake your magic lyre in vain, 
 And fruitless bid its chords complain 5 
 All listen, all admire the strain, 
 
 And wonder whence it flows : 
 But were the world inform d with truth. 
 Patrons would never raise the youth, 
 Envy would show his venom d tooth, 
 
 And scorn increase his woes. 
 
 Such is a modern poet s fate, 
 Unless his sphere is with the great, 
 Where gold will give his genius weight, 
 
 And purchase smiles of Fame. 
 But, ah ! a bard, with soul of fire, 
 Tho blest with Pope s or Milton s lyre. 
 If lowly born, must scarce aspire 
 
 To lisp her envied name. 
 
58 WOODWORTH S. Amatory. 
 
 Selira to Zorayda. 
 
 Then, SELIM, throw thy lyre away. 
 Nor deign to waste its dulcet lay, 
 On souls who cannot, while you play, 
 
 Appreciate the strain $ 
 Whose prejudice forbids to know 
 The sweets which in your numbers flow, 
 Inspiring joy, relieving wo, 
 
 And lessening every pain. 
 
 TO ZORAYDA. 
 
 Does SELIM wake his lyre in vain, 
 And fruitless breathe the pensive strain, 
 Because his brows no laurel gain, 
 
 And he obscurely sings ? 
 As well might fair Zorayda say 
 The sylvan fountains vainly play, 
 Where forests hide their darkened way, 
 
 And rocks conceal their springs. 
 
 But, lovely minstrel I learn to know, 
 Their streamlets kiss the meads below, 
 Who drink, unconscious whence they 
 And thence derive their smile ; 
 
Amatojy. WOOD WORTH S. 59 
 
 be! ini to Zorayda. 
 
 So may his song, perhaps, impart 
 A glow of transport to the heart, 
 Bid rapture smile, or grief depart, 
 And lie unknown the while. 
 
 Do SELIM S numbers flow in vain, 
 Because, as hundreds more complain, 
 FORTUNE will ne ? er reward the strain, 
 
 Nor gild his vocal reed ? 
 Then, where Canary blooms in spring, 
 Her golden tenants vainly sing, 
 If hunger urge to spread the wing, 
 
 Or stoop to peck the seed. 
 
 But know, where er the songster rove, 
 The strain he warbles through the grove. 
 Delights himself, or charms his love, 
 
 Whose charms the strain inspire : 
 So I the lingering hour beguile, 
 Lean o er my harp, entranced the while, 
 And gain, from her I love, a smile, 
 
 Whose beauty tunes my lyre. 
 
 No, SELIM does not sing in vain, 
 If fair ZORAYDA hear the strain, 
 And in her matchless numbers deign 
 To plead the poet s cause j 
 
ANONYMOUS. Patriotic. 
 
 Zorayua to Seliin. 
 
 For others FATE may trophies pile, 
 Serener joys are his the while ; 
 lle asks no fortune but her smile, 
 No fame but her applause. 
 
 TO SELIM. 
 
 Go on, contented youth ! "Zorayda err d 
 Resume your lyre and charm the Paphian 
 
 Nor beg the boon, but claim your just reward, 
 The admiration of the sex you love. 
 
 But if the happy fair who tunes your lyre, 
 Reciprocate the flame her Selim sing s, 
 
 Let Love not always whisper from the wire, 
 But loftier numbers animate the strings. 
 
 Your country s glory claims exalted praise, 
 In years, an infant, but matured in fame : 
 
 Heroes are her s whose acts deserve your lays, 
 Then gild your rising song with FREEDOM S name. 
 
 When foreign despots dare usurp the deep, 
 And add new wrongs to insults unredress d, 
 
 With bolder hand, the chords indignant sweep, 
 And vengeance wake in every Freeman s breast. 
 
patriotic. ANONYMOUS. 6l 
 
 Zerayda to Selim. 
 
 And should our injuries at length demand 
 BELLONA S banner once again unfurl d, 
 
 Then let the strain, which fires the patriot*t>and, 
 Swell like our thunders which shall shake the world. 
 
 The sword of vengeance will not gleam in vain, 
 Nor vainly burst our cataracts of fire ; 
 
 FREEDOM shall ride triumphant o r er the main. 
 And Europe s pirates in dismay retire. 
 
 The dove of peace shall soon regain her nest, 
 And JOVE S blest bird the olive branch display 5 
 
 Then be the change in softer notes express d 
 And LOVE again be warbled in your lay : 
 
 Soft as the zephyrs, when they fan the lake, 
 
 And dimpling smiles betray the ravish d kiss^ 
 * In sweeter tones your numbers then may wake, 
 
 And every note breathe friendship, love and peace. 
 
 So I have seen the bolt of heaven hurl d, 
 
 While, clothed in tempests, angry Nature frown "d ; 
 
 Anon her smiles were scatter d o er the world, 
 And sweeter wreaths her glowing temples bound. 
 
 Bright gems of silver glittered from the spray, 
 And deeper tints in every blossom glow d ; 
 The woodland songsters caught a livelier lay, 
 And melody in richer streamlets flow d. 
 6 
 
WOODWORTH S. Amatory. 
 
 Selim to Zorayda. 
 
 TO ZORAYDA. 
 
 Ah ! why, sweet minstrel ! why bid SELIM soar 
 Beyond the limits of his humble sphere ? 
 
 Why bid him ape the thunder s awful roar, 
 
 And swell the train in maddening WAR S career ? 
 
 jt \ji 
 Th 
 
 Forbear, dear girl ! to urge the strange request, 
 
 3 He cannot rouse his milky heart to rage ; 
 en let him lull the timorous bird to rest, 
 Or feel it dance with pleasure in its cage. 
 
 His gentle muse on Heliconia strays, 
 
 Or gaily sports in sweet Pierian bowers ; 
 
 And, when descending to inspire his lays, 
 Her airy form is but the breath of flowers. 
 
 JMlXERvA 7 s helm her brow could ne er sustain, 
 
 The sword of MARS her arm could never wield 
 He cannot woo her to a task so vain 
 She flies with terror the embattled field. 
 
 He once essay d but, like the Mantuan swain, 
 APOLLO check d his vain presumptuous pride, 
 
 Forbade him to attempt the daring strain, 
 
 Nor paint the scene where Jprave MONTGOMERY died. 
 
Amatory. WOODWORTH S. 63 
 
 Selim to Zorayda. 
 
 He blush d, obey d, nor more mistakes his powers $ 
 One wish alone his ardent soul employs 
 
 In Beauty s smile to bask life s summer hours, 
 To feast on love, and banquet on its joys. 
 
 Life is a chase the game, terrestrial bliss ; 
 
 If shadows please, why not a shade pursue ? 
 He tastes it in affection s nectar d kiss, 
 
 His song affords it if approv d by you. 
 
 There is a magic harp, whose dulcet tones 
 t J^OLUS only has the skill to wake ; 
 Which breathes to Night its sweetly-sighing moans^ 
 If no^rude blast the soft enchantment break. 
 
 He came with fragrance on his lucid wings, 
 Paused as he pass d, enraptured at the sight 5 
 
 Then fondly stoop d and kiss d the silken strings, 
 Which woke in ecstasy and breathed delight. 
 
 The playful god in transport bore away 
 The ravish *d sweets his lawless kisses stole ; 
 
 And distance heard the breezy notes decay, 
 In sighs, whose softness harmonized the soul. 
 
 Cut BOREAS came with rude disastrous breath, 
 And swept the tender strings with direful force 5 
 
 Harsh DISCORD waked, and, like the bird of death, 
 Shriek d to the gale in accents loud and hoar??. 
 
64 ANONYMOUS". Amatorj 
 
 Zorayda to Selim. 
 
 Such is the lyre which SELIM, when a child, 
 Received with rapture from the pensive muse 5 
 
 Its whispers please him, though untaught and wild. 
 But loftier tones the trembling chords refuse. 
 
 O then permit him still the gentler strain, 
 In all its tender languishments, to wake 5 
 
 For, if he rudely sweep the strings again, 
 He fears, Zorayda, that his lyre will break. 
 
 TO SELIM. 
 
 Has Selim the soul which his numbers portray. 
 
 And is it express d in the glance of his eye ? 
 Then would I for ever exist in the ray, 
 
 While mine to his harp should respond with a sigh. 
 
 If his heart truly throb to the notes of his lyre, 
 And is in his accents as sweetly express d 
 
 His voice must be music must rapture inspire 5 
 To quaff the rich melody is to be blest. 
 
 If his feelings are justly portray ? d by his muse. 
 
 And are in his visage correctly display d, 
 What fair but with rapture that visage reviews, 
 
 Reflection s fair model, by beauty array d ? 
 
Amatory. WOOD WORTH S. 65 
 
 The Harbour of Happiness. 
 
 In short, if his mind is express d in his lays. 
 So melting in sorrow, in rapture so warm, 
 
 And his form correspond it were rashness to gaze, 
 The heart, unresisting, must yield to the charm. 
 
 But, all ! if hypocrisy warble the strain, 
 
 And the soul have no part in its magical sweets, 
 
 O tell me and then ape Apollo in vain, 
 But never emerge from thy secret retreats. 
 
 THE HARBOUR OF HAPPINESS. 
 
 Embark d on the ocean of life, 
 I steer d for the haven of bliss ; 
 
 But thro passion s tempestuous strife, 
 My reckoning was ever A-MISS. 
 
 For Pleasure s enchanted domain 
 Allured me from Innocence s track 5 
 
 But her commerce, attended with pain, 
 Soon hove all my topsails aback. 
 
 On the waves of adversity tost, 
 
 And plung d in the whirlpool of care, 
 
 The rudder of fortitude lost, 
 I struck on the rocks of despair. 
 
 6* 
 
WOODWORTll Si 
 
 The Harbour of Happiness. 
 
 But afloat and refitted once more, 
 
 With the chart of experience to guide. 
 
 Hope points to the much-desired shore, 
 While her breath bids the tempest subside. 
 
 No breakers or quicksands I fear, 
 
 While honour stands firm at the helm.; 
 
 By the compass of reason I ll steer 
 To joy s paradisical realm. 
 
 Stern Virtue the port may blockade, 
 Yet Hymen will sanction my right, 
 
 And his torch, Cupid s pharos shall aid 
 To moor in the stream of delight. 
 
 Then, then may the genius of love, 
 
 An eternal embargo declare, 
 I ll never evade it, by Jove ! 
 
 Nor barter in contraband ware* 
 
WOODtVORTH S: 
 
 A Dream. 
 
 A DREAM. 
 
 O stay, sweet vision ! lovely phantom, stay f 
 And longer bless me with the mimic show .; 
 
 Ah 1 fade not thus to empty air away, 
 And leave a wretch awake to real wo. 
 
 And did I dream ? Oh ! twas a dream so sweet. 
 So full of bliss, that heaven had lost its charms j 
 
 And I embraced the dear delusive cheat, 
 
 Then woke, and found despair within my arms. 
 
 Joy s sparkling goblet seems to overflow, 
 
 Her banquet now with tempting sweets appears 
 
 But, ah ! I wake to quaff the cup of wo, 
 
 Drink deep of grief, and feast upon my tears. 
 
 Where now has fled the bliss I fancied mine ? 
 
 Where are the forms which tempted to deceiver 
 Vanish ? d in air ! but, ah ! have left behind 
 
 A wounded wretch, whom nothing can relieve* 
 
 Is life a dream! then, messenger of peace, 
 Prepare thy bow, thy barbed dart Til kiss ; 
 
 Dissolve the charm, O bid the vision cease, 
 And let me wake to everlasting bliss. 
 
58 WOODWORTH 3. Amatory. 
 
 The Poplar. 
 
 - - 
 
 THE POPLAR. 
 
 green was the Poplar when, under its shade, 
 
 1 exchanged the soft vow with the New-Haven maid ! 
 J3ut Winter soon blighted its sweet summer hue. 
 
 So hope faded when I bade Mary adieu ! 
 
 Three years shall I wander before I return, 
 But still this fond bosom for Mary shall burn, 
 My heart, like the compass, is constant and true" 
 She wept as I murmur d, dear Mary, adieu ! 
 
 Cut doom d was my Mary another to bless, 
 
 And doom d is her lover to pine in distress ; 
 
 Like the leaves of the Poplar, which tempests then strew, 
 
 My hopes were all scattered ; so, Mary, adieu ! 
 
 The spring soon re turn d, and the Poplar was drest ; 
 But peace had for ever forsaken my breast 5 
 From the music of Nature no comfort I drew, 
 For the birds and the streams murmur d, Mary, adieu \ 
 
 When, torn by my sorrows, I bow to my doom, 
 Will a tear from my Mary e er fall on my tomb! 
 When the leaves on the Poplar are blasted and few. 
 They ll sigh in the breeze, lovely Mary, adieu ! 
 
Amatory. WOODWORTH S. 
 
 Time, the Physician of Disappointed Love. 
 
 TIME, 
 
 The Physician of Disappointed Love. 
 
 Venus in her car descended, 
 Drawn by little harmless dove?, 
 
 Sportive graces round attended, 
 With a smiling band of loves. 
 
 Roses in a chaplet crown d her, 
 And she chose her flowery seat 
 
 Where the songsters warbled round her 
 Hudson s billows kiss d her feet. 
 
 There I saw the queen of beauty, 
 Fondling Cupid in her arms, 
 
 And approach d to pay my duty, 
 Ravish d with her glowing charms. 
 
 Goddess, famed in ancient legends" 
 I exclainrd in posture low 
 
 - Queen of love s celestial regions, 
 " Welcome to the realms below ! 
 
 I am told, the glance which captures, 
 " Springs alone from power of thine ; 
 
 " Give me, then, love s burning raptures, 
 " Teach me love and bliss is mine," 
 
WOOD WORTH S. Amaton . 
 
 Time, the Physician of disappointed Love. 
 
 Venus smil d at my petition, 
 Gave the urchin s dart a kiss, 
 
 Who exclaim d, " mama s permission 
 " Gives you now the promised bliss. 
 
 " Here s the means, and skilPd to use 
 " I but seldom miss the heart" 
 
 Then within my throbbing bosom 
 Quick I felt the trembling dart. 
 
 How my glowing pulses bounded I 
 Like our sire, ere known to sin. 
 
 Twas elysium that surrounded, 
 Joy and paradise within. 
 
 Hope, within her fragrant bowers, 
 Led me with a smile more sweet 
 
 Than the odoriferous flowers 
 Gaily blooming round our feet. 
 
 " Yes," I cried, " I thank thee, Venus, 
 " Hope and bliss will ne er depart" 
 
 When a demon sprang between us, 
 W T ith a frown that froze the heart. 
 
 Hope beheld, and fled affrighted, 
 While the fiend s disastrous breath 
 
 Blasted all that had delighted, 
 Flowers and choristers, in death, 
 
Aiuatoiy. WOODWORTH S. 
 
 Time, the Physician of disappointed Love. 
 
 Twas the fiend of Disappointment 
 How his touch my bosom chilPd, 
 
 Poison d Hope s balsamic ointment, 
 And my wound with anguish filPd. 
 
 " Queen of beauty, treacherous Venus , 
 " Save me from a fate like this ; 
 
 " Jove himself may judge between us, 
 " Pain is all thy promised bliss." 
 
 * Mortal ! ever discontented, 
 " Your unjust reproaches spare ; 
 
 u Is your wish so soon repented ? 
 " Well, again I grant your prayer. 
 
 Yon decrepit sage will heal you, 
 " Whose approach appears so slow $ 
 
 " Let his icy fingers feel you, 
 
 " And you must forget your wo." 
 
 Time approached his aid to proffer^ 
 But I shrunk from his relief; 
 
 Hugg d my pain refused his offer s 
 For I found a joy in grief. 
 
 Lives there one, who loves sincerely^ 
 Willing to forget the flame ? 
 
 ^o tis dissolution, nearly, 
 Nature will assert her claim. 
 
72 WOODWORTH S. Elegiac. 
 
 My Mother s Grave in Scituate, state of Massachusetts. 
 
 MY MOTHER S GRAVE. 
 
 Written in a country Burial Place, in ScituQtf, 
 Massachusetts. 
 
 Aurora paints the orient skies with light, 
 
 With rosy pencil tinges every cloud, 
 Unfolds her gates upon the rear of NIGHT, 
 
 And strips the mountains of his sable shroud. 
 
 The conscious stars conceal their twinkling fires, 
 Night s waning empress turns more sickly pale^ 
 
 Her votary the whizzing bat retires, 
 
 The owl suspends her harsh complaining tale. 
 
 The lark awakes and tunes his matin song, 
 And all the sylvan warblers join the theme, 
 
 The whistling ploughman drives his team along, 
 And sporting swans sail stately down the stream. 
 
 Adieu, dull couch ! for nature more can please, 
 While o er her rich enamel cl breast I stray, 
 
 Inhaling sweets which freight the balmy breeze. 
 Stolen in kisses from the lips of May. 
 
 The peach-bloom in the breathing zephyr plays, 
 And shakes soft odours from its silken leaves j 
 
 The apple, too. a silver garb displays, 
 
 Whence morning s breath a rich perfume receives* 
 
Elegiac. WOODWORTH S. 
 
 My M 
 
 Here let me stray, adown this mossy ridjre ; 
 
 Observe yon streamlet o er the pebbles creep ; 
 Pass o er its little rude-constructed bridge, 
 
 t3 7 
 
 To where, in silence, all our fathers sleep. 
 
 O may I never pass this sacred spot, 
 Unmindful of the dust these walls enclose : 
 
 For here, partaking in the common lot, 
 A tender MOTHER S relics find repose I 
 
 Here various stones, on various models planned, 
 Discriminate between the rich and p or; 
 
 Some richly sculptured, by an artist s hand, 
 Some rudely lettered, and adorn cl no more. 
 
 But filial love and sorrow soon discern 
 The humble slate they consecrated here ; 
 
 The drooping willow weeping o er the urn, 
 The quoted motto, and the name most dear. 
 
 Yes, tis the same beneath this turfy heap 
 Lowly reclines the form which t^ave me birth $ 
 
 Those arms, the cradle of my earliest sleep, 
 
 Are nerveless now, and mingling with the earth. 
 
 Those lips, whose accents could my cares remove, 
 Are seal d in silence, stiffened, cold, and dead ! 
 
 Those eyes, which beam d with fond maternal love ; 
 Are closed in darkness, and their lustre fled . 
 7 
 
WOODWORTH S. Elegiac. 
 
 Mv Mother s Grave 
 
 )h ! dear departed, venerable shade ! 
 
 If earthly objects can thy notice claim, 
 Accept the tribute filial love has paid, 
 
 The pearly gem that glitters on thy name. 
 
 Though five sad years their destin d course have run. 
 Since death confin d thy mortal body here, 
 
 Yet cannot thy poor, sorrowing, orphan son, 
 Review the spot unmoisten d with a tear. 
 
 Hard fate forbade, when nature s tenderest ties 
 Were sever d by the lingering stroke of death, 
 
 That filial love should close thy sunken eyes, 
 Or from thy lips to kiss the parting breath. 
 
 Forgive thy son, indulgent parent, this, 
 As he forgives the fate he could not move ; 
 
 Though oft in duty he has been remiss, 
 
 This last neglect was not from want of love. 
 
 For, weeks before, when wasting nature knew 
 The struggle fruitless for her forfeit breath, 
 
 Thy wish I heard, and with impatience flew 
 To kiss thy cheek before it sunk in death. 
 
 When faithful memory recalls with pain 
 This last sad duty which I paid to thee, 
 
 A final parting, ne er to meet again, 
 
 Till from the world and its corruptions free 
 
Efeiac. WOODWORTH S. 
 
 My Mother s Grave. 
 
 I feel the son in all my moving soul ; 
 
 How truly so, these starting tears reveal: 
 The sacred drops shall meet with no control. 
 
 Affection s tear what son would e er conceal? 
 
 Then was the mother all alive in thee ; 
 
 What wholesome counsel from thy lips I drew> - 
 Which in my breast shall ever treasured be 
 
 The only legacy I had from you. 
 
 Since then, dear parent, Joy has seldom smiled 
 Upon thy son severe has been his fate 
 
 The world was new an inexperienc d child 
 Its friendship sought but only gain d its hate I 
 
 He hoped from FORTUNE but a cheering smile, 
 But like the world she frowrrd upon his claim j 
 
 He then pursued a fleeting shade a while 
 But broke a bubble when he grasp d at FAME 1 
 
 His only respite, now, from mental pain, 
 Is o er his native rural scenes to roam ; 
 
 A view of this sequestered spot to gain, 
 
 Or, when away, to think of thee and home ! 
 
 The green turf swells above thy mouldering clay, 
 The moss has strew d it with the softest felt ; 
 
 The violets here their loveliest hues display, 
 To deck the bed on which he oft has knelt. 
 
76 WOODWORTH S. Elegiac. 
 
 My Mother s Grave. 
 
 This humble stone, which fond affection placed 
 To mark the spot, and to preserve thy name. 
 
 Though by a rude unlettered artist traced, 
 On his regard has more than marble s claim. 
 
 Sacred to thee for ever may it stand ; 
 
 Forbear, O TIME ! the tablet to destroy, 
 Whose Jay disarms the king of terror s hand 
 
 " Death ix i/ie gate to everlasting joy." 
 
 This truth b^liev d, no more shall baseless fear 
 Attend the vord that speaks of leaving earth; 
 
 We seek for happiness it dwells not here; 
 In Heaven alone are joys of lasting worth. 
 
 Here some repose who scarce received their birth, 
 Ere death consign d them to the silent tomb ; 
 
 Small, though sufficient., is their lot of earth 
 The flowers, transplanted, will for ever bloom. 
 
 No age is free from DEATH S insatiate bow, 
 His shafts are levelled, and his victims fall! 
 
 The rose of infancy, or four-score snow, 
 Alike avail not, he must conquer all. 
 
 Those rustic biers against the wall reclin d, 
 The waiting bearers of the archer s prey. 
 
 Impress this serious truth upon the mind, 
 Mxistema is not certain for a day ! 
 
Elegiac WOODWORTH S. 77 
 
 My Mother s Grave. 
 
 How oft this pious, all-important theme, 
 Hast thou impressed upon thy list ? ning boy, 
 
 My much-loved Mother ! but the playful dream 
 Of childhood, pictured only scenes of joy. 
 
 Then would we come, my little sisters too, 
 
 And one fond brother, through this yard to stray ; 
 
 Our destined beds beneath the sod to view, 
 Survey these stones, and read the uncouth lay. 
 
 Then, as the shades of evening veil d the plains, 
 Back to yon mansion* we would gaily stroll, 
 
 The humble benefice which still sustains 
 The careful guardian of the Christian soul. 
 
 Beneath that roof, I first inhaled the air, 
 
 Poor were my parents, hard they earn d their bread, 
 
 Rich only in a reputation fair, 
 
 And owifd no mansion where to lay the head. 
 
 Along yon streamlet,? where the whisp ring reeds 
 And fragrant flags upon its borders play, 
 
 Where through those cedars it meand ring leads, 
 My infant footsteps first were taught to stray. 
 
 * The Parsonage House, of the North Parish of Scituate, about 
 half a mile from the harbour. 
 
 t A well-known brook, leading from Beaverdam Swamp to the 
 harbour. 
 
 7* 
 
WOODWORTH S. Elegiac, 
 
 My Mother s Grave. 
 
 And how a Mother s tender, anxious care, 
 
 Has oft depriv d me of this little joy ! 
 The last love-pledge of this connubial pair, 
 
 Their fears were ever wakeful for the boy. 
 
 The sylvan Muse entic d me to her cell, 
 My childish fingers wanton d o er her lyre, 
 
 Bade the rude strain, untaught, to wildly swell, 
 
 While to the sound each throbbing pulse beat higher. 
 
 Then, as I grew, and learn d to sweep the strings^ 
 By art directed, though less sweetly wild, 
 
 I envied not the happiness of kings, 
 
 My lyre was bliss, and I a happy child. 
 
 But why recount the joys of childhood o er ? 
 
 Tl at happy state with all its joys has fled ! 
 AS fade the beauties of the tender flower, 
 
 When WINTER beats upon its drooping head* 
 
 Out see ! the ocean sparkles on the sight, 
 What lovely hues upon its surface play ; 
 
 The liquid mirror streams with dazzling light. 
 Reflected from the rising god of day. 
 
 He comes ! and nature hails his gladd ning beams, 
 New life pervades her animated part ; 
 
 Nor less improved the vegetable seems, 
 
 Its charms increase, and laugh at mimic art 
 
Elegiac. WOODWORTH S. 79 
 
 My Mothers Grave. 
 
 Not long ago, adown the western skies 
 
 lie sunk, and left the mourning world in gloom 5 
 
 But only sunk at night, again to rise, 
 
 In tenfold splendour, from his watery tomb. 
 
 So, though we sink beneath the verdant sod, 
 
 And leave our friends in mournful weeds and tears, 
 
 We only sink to rise and dwell with GOD, 
 An age unmeasured by successive years. 
 
 There, we shall meet, dear Mother ! yet again^ 
 Thou art but gone before a little while ; 
 
 There, joy is endless, unalloy d with pain, 
 There, an eternal round of summers smile. 
 
 Fly swift, ye winged hours, and be my lot 
 
 To count but few, ere death shall aim the dart ;- 
 
 Then lowly let me rest beneath this spot, 
 And lose the anguish of an aching heart. 
 
 Short be my life, yet then, if sorrows count, 
 
 A lengthen d age should clothe my head in snow ; 
 
 O could my virtues gain but their amount, 
 
 Perfection would have once been found below. 
 
 Adieu, dear spot ! necessity commands 
 
 The youth who loves you far from hence away f 
 
 But while a thought of home his breast expands, 
 Your dear remembrance never can decay ! 
 
80 WOODWORTM S. Elegiac. 
 
 A Monody on the Death of a Friend. 
 
 A MONODY 
 On the Death of a highly-esteemed Friend. 
 
 My lyre, which erst to Friendship tuned, I woke 
 
 In strains the sacred theme inspired, 
 While with its flame the glowing chords were fired. 
 Ah ! sad exchange ! the tie of friendship broke, 
 By death dissolved, must make its sadder theme ! 
 While every falling note with wo shall teem ! 
 To KIDDER S early fate the muse shall pay 
 
 Sincere affection s purest lay ; 
 The emanations of a grief fraught soul, 
 The real feelings of an honest heart, 
 UnfeignM, and unadorn d by art, 
 Who all her paler hues from nature stole. 
 
 Ye youths, ye virgin train, 
 Whose eyes to his responsive snriPd, 
 When festive rites the hours beguiPd, 
 
 With me complain ! 
 
 Me, whom the closer link of friendship join d 
 To his expanded heart where truth, combined 
 With every glowing grace, superior shone 5 
 With me commingle sympathetic tears, 
 
 
Elegiac. WOOD WORTH S. 81 
 
 A Monody on the Death of a Friend. 
 
 While faithful Memory shall own 
 
 His worth, his virtues, past ! 
 She bids retrace the journey of his years. 
 Review the path, nor see a blemish cast. 
 
 Flush d by the balmy spring of youth, he rose. 
 In life s parterre, a flower of fairest hue ; 
 Denied affection s fostering, pearly dew, 
 Parental sunshine yet his tints disclose 
 
 Beauty internal fragrance all his own j 
 Benevolence conspicuous shone, 
 And nectar d charity distill d 
 In grateful odours ! who beheld him bloom 
 
 And yet their love withheld ? 
 Who, could they have foreseen his early doom, 
 
 But would have shed anticipated tears ; 
 Withheld the victim from the insatiate tomb, 
 If prayers could hold, for many, many years ? 
 
 But prayers, nor youth, nor virtue, nought avail 
 Against diseases, ministers of death ! 
 The tyrant claims our forfeit breath, 
 And who his claim withstands ? entreaties fail I 
 One gift alone can make us scorn the foe, 
 
 Though not his shaft evade ; 
 The heavenly gift our Saviour brought below, 
 Religion^ sweet, celestial maid . 
 
82 WOODWORTH S; Elegiac. 
 
 A Monody on the D< J KI!I of a F iend. 
 
 By thee sustain d, the darkened path grows bright, 
 And leads to realms of everlasting light ! 
 Cease then, my tears, to flow, 
 Cease, sighs, to murmur wo, 
 This peerless guide my friend secured, 
 While he the ills of life endured ; 
 Cheer d by a seraph s song, 
 The youih she led along 
 The gloomy path its roughness fled, 
 And Terror hid his grisly head ; 
 The gate of Paradise displayed 
 Cherubs in robes of light array d : 
 And songs re-echo d through the empyreal dome, 
 As heavenly minstrels hail d him welcome home ! 
 
 But selfish sorrow will intrude 
 The loss is ours and nature will be heard 
 Till sorrow is subclu d 
 
 By cooler reason s unimpassion d sway ; 
 The worth we lov d, the virtues we revered, 
 
 We must lament when torn away. 
 So young, to fall ! but youth, as hoary age, 
 
 Finds no respect I The infant dies 
 When scarcely entered on the stage ; 
 His part to ope, and then to close his eyes, 
 Some claim a longer scene, and bustle round 
 Their little walk, with rant and sound 5 
 
EJegiae. WOODWORTH S. 83 
 
 A Monody on tho D ath of! u Friend. 
 
 The curtain drops, and they are seen no more ! 
 
 Few labour onward thro the tedious play 
 Till life s allotted, farthest verge, is o er, 
 
 Then fall like fruit when autumn melts away. 
 Thus is it ordered, Order s source to please ; 
 Who will impeach His infinite decrees J 
 
 Granted, tis just yet sympathy must weep 
 To see him hastening to the silent dead 
 Without a kindred tear of sorrow shed ! 
 JNor bosom where to fall asleep I 
 
 Nor hand to close his eyes ! 
 Strangers that mournful task perform d I 
 Yet strangers here were friends their tears, their sighs, 
 From bosoms flow d by purest feelings w r arm d. 
 Friends tied by nature could no more ; 
 Nor more sincerely such a loss deplore. 
 Might fond fraternal offices assuage 
 The pangs of sore disease ? these too denied ! 
 
 For ah ! a brother still of lesser ag;e, 
 At distance languished, while his brother died ! 
 
 No tender sister weeping o er his bed ! 
 No anxious father soothing with his love I 
 No mother ! God ! I touch a tender string 
 My heart s acutest nerve its vital thread, 
 Struck too unkindly, tears of crimson move, 
 And waken d sorrow whets her blunted sting ! 
 
 r 
 I 
 
84 WOODWORTH S. Elegiac. 
 
 A Monody on the Death of a Friend. 
 
 O grant, ye powers that rule the lives of all, 
 If I am doom d, like him I mourn, to fall 
 Far from the bosom of my home, 
 Where fate may call, and I may roam 
 O grant my wish may hearts like those which bleS 
 O er Kidder s corse, mourn too for me 5 
 Such be the strangers round my bed $ 
 Such be the tears they shed 5 
 
 Whoe er they be : 
 Such be the sacred care my ashes find 
 
 When death has clos d the scene : 
 Such be the impression on the youthful mind, 
 When followers round my grave convene : 
 But more than all like his, my spirit rise, 
 And with him reign in worlds beyond the skies. 
 
Ele-iac. WOOD WORTH S. 85 
 
 Oa the Death of a beloved infant. 
 
 . . 
 
 ON THE DEATH OF AN INFANT. 
 
 Almighty God ! tis right, tis just, 
 That earthly frames should turn to dust ; 
 But, ah ! forgive the wishful tear 
 That would detain a spirit here. 
 
 Go, gentle babe, to realms of bliss, 
 The chast ning rod we humbly kiss; 
 Thy Saviour calls thee home, my son, 
 And let his holy will be done. 
 
 Thy earthly form, now icy cold, 
 Was framed in beauty s fairest mould ; 
 But now, prepared by love divine, 
 A fairer, brighter form is thine. 
 
 Thy earthly parents loved thee well-^- 
 So much, that language fails to tell ; 
 But, ah ! our love was weak and poor, 
 Thy heavenly Parent loves thee more. 
 
 Here, thou wert tenderly caress dj 
 Upon a fond maternal breast ; 
 But angel-nurses, forms of love, 
 Shall now caress my babe above. 
 
 3 
 
VVOODWORTH S. Elegla* 
 
 On the Dtath of a beloved Infant. 
 
 Fain would paternal love have taught 
 Thy little opening world of thought ; 
 But we the pleasing task resign 
 To heavenly schools, and books divine. 
 
 ? Twas all our thoughts and wishes still 
 To guard our darling here from ill ; 
 But that great God who calFd thee home, 
 Has saved from greater ills to come. 
 
 Then let us hush the rising sigh, 
 And bid affliction s tear be dry; 
 Our child still lives I his sorrows o er, 
 Where we shall meet to part no more. 
 
 There, shall the sweet maternal kiss, 
 Increase his joy enhance his bliss ; 
 There, through redeeming love and grace, 
 The father shall his son embrace. 
 
 Almighty God ! tis right, tis just, 
 That earthly frames should turn to dust ; 
 But, O the sweet, transporting truth 
 The soul shall bloom in endless youth, 
 
Elegiac. WOODWORTH S. 87 
 
 On the Death of a Child. 
 
 ON THE DEATH OF A CHILD. 
 
 In life s parterre, what numerous germs disclose, 
 
 The loveliest tints, the sweetest blushing dies ! 
 The enraptured florist views the opening rose, 
 Screens it from every ruder wind that blows, 
 
 And richer, future charms, in embryo espies. 
 But, ah . the spoiler stalks abroad, whose breatk 
 Is pestilence, whose chilling touch is death ! 
 
 With merciless hand he crops the flower. 
 And all its promis d beauty flies, 
 
 It falls beneath his baneful power, 
 
 Its sweets are scattered in an hour; 
 
 It shrinks, it withers, droops, and dies. 
 Yet, mourn not, ye, whose fost ring love and care 
 
 To culture a beloved plant has faiPd ; 
 Tis but transplanted to a garden, where 
 Eternal summer smiles ; twill flourish there 
 
 In living hues, by spoilers unassail d. 
 
WOOD WORTH S. Eiegiaq. 
 
 Lines on the Death of a favourite Kitten. 
 
 LINES, 
 
 Written at the request of a young lady, on the 
 Death of her favourite Kitten. 
 
 [A JUVENILE PRODUCTION.] 
 
 Shall sculptured blocks and columns rise 
 In memory of the worthless great, 
 
 And nought but tears, regrets, and sighs. 
 Declare the humbler victim s fate ? 
 
 Forbid it, Justice ! while my muse 
 
 Will not deny her friendly aid ; 
 To Sylvia s virtues, though abstruse, 
 
 Shall due respect and praise be paid. 
 
 How pure her life ! without a blot 
 
 To stain her bright untarnished fame ! 
 
 Though low, obscure, and mean, her lot, 
 Yet long shall live her humble name. 
 
 How oft her sportive tricks and plays 
 Have pleased, amused, and banislrd care 
 
 How oft her little winning ways 
 
 Have gahrd caresses from the fair . 
 
Elegiac. 
 
 WOODWORTH S. 
 
 On the Death of a favourite Kitten a juvenile production. 
 
 How rich and envied the reward 
 
 For all her little arts to please ! 
 Her lovely mistress kind regard 
 
 Tenfold repaid such toils as these. 
 
 Who would not envy her, so blest 
 Accept her fate her bliss to gain ? 
 
 Kiss d by those tips press d to that breast. 
 Which thousands sigh to touch in vain. 
 
 .But, ah ! -her sports and plays are done f 
 Those harmless pastimes all are fled ! 
 
 The tricks which those caresses won 
 Amuse no more Ipoor Sylvia s dead ! 
 
 8* 
 
NOTE. 
 
 The patriotic Odes, Songs, and other OCCASIONAL 
 pieces, which follow, icere handed (en masse) to the 
 publishers, with a discretionary privilege of select 
 ing or suppressing. Fully aware that the theme of 
 INDEPENDENCE had long since been exhausted by more 
 celebrated bards, the publishers anticipated but little 
 ORIGINALITY from so trite a subject. On inspection, 
 however, they are convinced that it is their duty to in 
 corporate these pieces with the present selection. What 
 is wanting in originality of thought, is made up in 
 energy of language and harmony of numbers. Many 
 of them are JUVENILE productions, and most of them 
 were written without study, on the spur of the occasion. 
 Such as they Jirst appeared, without revision, amend 
 ment, or alteration, they are now presented to the pub- 
 fa, by THE PUBLISHERS. 
 
Patriotic. WOODWORTH S. 91 
 
 Odes for the Celebration of American Independence. 
 
 ODE, 
 
 Sung at the Celebration of Independence, by the 
 Society of Juvenile Patriots. 
 
 [AN EARLY JUVENILE PRODUCTION.] 
 
 When from our shores Bellona s car 
 RecoiPd amid dread scenes of war ; 
 The guardian Genius of our land 
 Gave listening freemen this command 
 " Revere fair Freedom s chosen Son, 
 Protect with life the prize he won." 
 
 High on her right the Hero stood 
 Victorious from the fields of blood, 
 And pois d to Heaven his reeking blade, 
 As witness to the vow he made : 
 " This arm, with Heaven for its shield, 
 Shall e er protect the dear-bought field. " 
 
 The goddess heard the solemn vow, 
 And twinM the laurel round his brow ; 
 While swell d the anthem to his praise, 
 And spheres responsive caught the lays - 
 " Revere the Hero, Washington, 
 For he your Independence won. 7 
 
92 WOODWORTH S. Patrieti, 
 
 Odes for the Celebration of American Independence. 
 
 Then, while we consecrate the day 
 Which gave our land its lawful sway, 
 Let all our bosoms glow with fires 
 Becoming sons of hero-sires ; 
 Swear ne er to forfeit what they won 
 While earth revolves around the sun. 
 
 And while our goblets flow with wine, 
 While rich libations gra.ce her shrine, 
 In clouds of incense to the skies 
 Let this inspiring theme arise 
 " The Youth of Freedon, e er will be 
 Champions of sacred Liberty." 
 
 While Mars red banner floats unfurl d 
 O er the blood-delug d eastern world, 
 Here, peace shall bless us with her reign, 
 While Virtue, Right, and Faith remain ; 
 And let mad Europe blush to see 
 That Peace can dwell with Liberty. 
 
 But if our foes should e er conspire 
 To kindle Freedom s funeral pyre, 
 And slaves of tyrants join the band 
 To subjugate their native land, 
 Our Youth indignant shall arise 
 And save the dearly-purchas d prize. 
 
TPatriotic. WOODWORTH S. 93 
 
 Odes for the Celebration of American Independence. 
 
 Our fathers fought, and scornM to yield, 
 But drove Oppression from the field, 
 Then gave this mandate, with the prize, 
 To unborn Patriots, yet to rise 
 " Protect the blessing we bestow, 
 And guard your rights from every foe." 
 
 Then, Youthful Patriots, rise, and swear 
 To hold the glorious name you bear ; 
 Your dear-bought Freedom to maintain, 
 While Ocean, Earth, or Skies remain ; 
 And, like your fathers, still to be 
 Independent, Great, and Free. 
 
 The Genius of Freedom, escap d from the flood 
 Which had delug d the world, and usurp d her do 
 minion, 
 
 On the glaciers of Switzerland tremblingly stood, 
 To Heaven she look d and extended her pinion ; 
 When over the main 
 Was wafted this strain, 
 Which Echo, in raptures, repeated again 
 c< The Sons of Columbia have sworn to be free, 
 And their arms shall maintain what their voices decree/" * 
 
94 WOOD WORTH S. Patriotic. 
 
 Odes for the Celebration of American Independence. 
 
 She heard it, and Westward directed her flight, 
 
 Till our hills met her view in fair grandeur ascending. 
 When her temple s effulgence burst full on her sight, 
 And her sons were the rites of her worship attending. 
 Her altar was rear d, 
 And while Freemen rever d, 
 
 The anthem was struck, and this chorus she heard 
 The Sons of Columbia have sworn to be free, 
 And their arms shall maintain what their voices decree. 
 
 Then, here let her temple for ever be found, 
 
 Ye priests who attend, guard the shrine from pollution ; 
 In the midst be the statue of Washington crown d 
 With the laurels he won in our grand revolution. 
 Swell the anthem again 
 To Liberty s reign, 
 
 And this be the chorus to finish the strain 
 The Sons of Columbia have sworn to be free, 
 And their arms shall maintain what their voices decree. 
 
 On high soars our Eagle, begemm d with the stars, 
 
 A dread to our foe, but a dove to our brother 5 
 One talon still clenching the thunder of Mars, 
 But the olive of peace is held forth in the other. 
 The world may unite, 
 With treble our might ; 
 We proffer them peace, but can meet them in fight 
 
Patriotic. 
 
 WOODWORTH S. 
 
 Odes for the Celebration of American Independence. 
 
 For the Sons of Columbia have sworn to be free, 
 And their arms shall maintain what their voices decree. 
 
 Ye Heroes who once so impregnable stood 
 
 Gainst Britain s whole prowess, and scorn d to bend 
 
96 WOODWORTHTS. Patriotic. 
 
 Odes for the Celebration of American Independence. 
 
 Arise, injure! freemen, again grasp the spear, 
 
 And hurl on aggressors the vengeance they merit, 
 The blessing preserve which you value so dear, 
 The blessing our Fathers have bid us inherit. 
 Indignant arise, 
 Britain s lion despise, 
 
 And swear by the Ruler of earth, sea, and skies, 
 That the Sons of Columbia will ever be free, 
 And their arms shall maintain what their voices decree. 
 
 ODE 3. 
 
 When the fiend of fell discord had delug d in gore 
 
 The nations of Europe who bow d to the demon, 
 And Oppression s black sceptre was held o er the shore 
 Once charter d by Heaven, the birth-right of freemen : 
 In a chariot of flame 
 Fair Liberty came, 
 
 And the armour of Pallas encircled the dame : 
 Attend to her call " Sons of Freedom, arise, 
 Independence in thunder proclaim to the skies." 
 
 Inspired by the genius, our fathers unfurl d 
 
 Her star-spangled banner, and own d her dominion j 
 
 Bade their cannon indignant proclaim to the world 
 Their oath to be freemen in act and opinion. 
 
i-utnotk. \VOOD WORTH S. 97 
 
 Odes for the Celebration of American Independence. 
 
 While her Eagle on high, 
 
 Flashing fire from his eye, 
 
 Saw the olive disdain d, and his thunders let fly. 
 Then the watchword was" Freedom 7 Columbia arise. 
 Independence in thunder proclaim to the skies. 
 
 The foe in confusion recoil d from our shore, 
 
 Where Tyranny s Upas in vain sought to flourish ; 
 But the soil he relinquished, enrich d with his gore. 
 Shall for ages the fair Tree of Liberty nourish. 
 Mid its branches above, 
 In a union of love, 
 
 The Eagle shall nestle and sport with the dove, 
 While, from myriads of freemen, this chorus shall rise 
 " Independence is our s, we ll proclaim to the skies." 
 
 But, hark ! what hoarse discord our senses assail I 
 Our bird grasps his thunders, extends his broad pin 
 ions, 
 
 And, perch d mid the stars, he hears borne on the gale 
 Ambition s proud threat to invade his dominions : 
 But our heroes advance, 
 And alert seize the lance, 
 
 To repel the encroachments of England or France. 
 " Independence ! we ll never relinquish the prize ? r; 
 Let your cannon in thunder proclaim to the skies. 
 9 
 
98 WOOD WORTH S. Patriotic. 
 
 Odes for the Celebration of American Independence. 
 
 Rise, freemen, arise ! let this festival day, 
 
 Devoted to joy and refined recreation, 
 See millions stand ready, alert to obey, 
 Should Liberty call to repel an invasion. 
 Your weapons retain, 
 While the goblet you drain, 
 Your toast " Death or Freedom" and crown d with 
 
 this strain : 
 
 " Independence ! we ll never relinquish the prize," 
 Let the oath be in thunder proclaimed to the skies. 
 
 ODE 4. 
 
 Come crowd around the festive board, 
 And join the song with one accord, 
 Be every breast with pleasure stored. 
 
 And care and envy send hence. 
 Our dear-bought freedom we will praise, 
 Dear-bought freedom dear-bought freedom 
 Our dear-bought freedom we will praise. 
 
 The right of our descendants ; 
 Our dear-bought freedom we will praise. 
 And every glowing heart shall raise 
 The chorus of our joyful lays. 
 Columbia s Independence. 
 
Patriotic. WOODWORTH S. 99. 
 
 Odes for the Celebration of American Independence. 
 
 Be party rancour banished hence, 
 For peace is virtue s recompence ; 
 Friendship and love on no pretence 
 
 Should ever meet with hinderance. 
 Let sons of Freedom e er agree 
 .^ons of Freedom sons of Freedom 
 Let sons of Freedom e er agree, 
 
 In amity s attendance; 
 Let sons of Freedom e er agree, 
 For why should men, existing free, 
 Deform, with Discord s stormy sea 
 
 Columbia s Independence ? 
 
 We here assemble to rejoice 
 That patriots, with united voice, 
 Once rose and made this manly choice, 
 
 For them and their descendants. 
 They Freedom s eagle raised on high 
 Freedom s eagle Freedom s eagle 
 They Freedom s eagle raised on high, 
 
 Amid the stars resplendence ; 
 They Freedom s eagle raised on high, 
 And swore to fight or bravely die, 
 If foreign despots dare deny 
 
 Columbia s Independence. 
 
100 WOODWORTH S. Patriot! 
 
 Odes for the Celebration of American Independence. 
 
 Bellona goads her foaming steeds, 
 Beneath her car Oppression bleeds, 
 And Tyranny with haste recedes. 
 
 With all his curst attendants; 
 Our patriot fathers gainM the day 
 Patriot fathers patriot fathers 
 Our patriot fathers gain d the da}*, 
 
 For them and their descendants ; 
 Our patriot fathers gain d the day, 
 For which we raise the joyful lay. 
 And on our banners still display 
 
 Columbia s Independence. 
 
 Then Freedom bade her temple rise. 
 Whose fabric every foe defies, 
 While joyous seraphs from the skies 
 
 Bestow their glad attendance ; 
 And shades of martyrs smiling see 
 Shades of martyrs shades of martyrs 
 And shades of martyrs smiling see 
 
 The joy of their descendants; 
 And shades of martyrs smiling see 
 Their sons united, brave and free, 
 And yearly hail, with mirth and glee ? 
 
 Columbia t Independence, 
 
Patriotic. WOOD WORTH S. 101 
 
 Odes for the Celebration of American Independence. 
 
 ODE 5. 
 Written for the celebration of a Society of Printers- 
 
 While around the festive board 
 
 The sons of Freedom throng, 
 And bid her praises rise, 
 
 In patriotic song ; 
 Ye brethren of our heaven-born art, 
 
 Unite to hail the day ; 
 Let joy expand each patriot heart, 
 
 Each tongue assist the lay. 
 Arise, tis Freedom s natal morn, 
 
 Ye sons of FAUST,* arise, 
 For ever swear to guard 
 
 The dearly purchased prize. 
 
 Mankind in darkness groped, 
 
 Their blind and erring way, 
 Deep veiFd in Gothic shades, 
 
 With scarce a glimpse of day, 
 Till FAUST arose and bid our art 
 
 Illume their darken d mind ; 
 Then Independence fired the heart, 
 
 Which knowledge had refined. 
 
 Faust the Inventor of the Art of Printing, 
 
 9* 
 
WOOD WORTH S. Patriotic. 
 
 Odes for the Celebration of American Independence. 
 
 Arise, tis Freedom s natal morn, 
 
 Ye sons of FAUST, arise, 
 For ever swear to guard 
 
 The dearly-purchas d prize. 
 
 But long they sought in vain 
 
 To win the heavenly prize j 
 Oppression s lengthen d reign 
 
 Their ardent wish denies. 
 Till o er our hard-earn d Western soil 
 
 He dared his sceptre wield ; 
 "Twas then our sires, with blood and toil, 
 
 Gain d freedom and the field. 
 Arise, tis Freedom s natal morn, 
 
 Ye sons of FAUST, arise, 
 For ever swear to guard 
 
 The dearly-purchas d prize. 
 
 Then smiling Peace was our s ? 
 
 And every earthly bliss, 
 Till Europe s treacherous powers, 
 
 Betray d us with a kiss. 
 But, like our fathers, now we ll rise, 
 
 Our birthrights to maintain 
 Swear by the God of earth and skies ; 
 
 No tyrant here shall reign. 
 Arise, tis Freedom s natal morn, 
 
 Ye sons of FAUST, arise, &c. 
 
Patriotic. WOOD WORTH S. 
 
 Odes for the Celebration of American Independence. 
 
 Then let the foe advance, 
 
 The press shall still inspire, 
 To wield the missive lance, 
 
 Or guide the vengeful fire ; 
 And here we swear, when Freedom calls. 
 
 We ll not refuse to die 5 
 The foe shall see beneath our balls,* 
 
 His columns fall in pye. 
 Arise, tis Freedom s natal morn a 
 
 Ye sons of FAUST, arise, 
 For ever swear to guard, 
 
 The dearly-purchas d prize. 
 
 Long ere a foreign flag, 
 
 O er tops Columbia s stripes, 
 We ll forge our sticks to arms, 
 
 To balls convert our types. 
 We ll never flinch, but give them chase, 
 
 Display our mystic STARS, 
 Our Eagle still shall hold his place, 
 
 And hurl the shafts of Mars. 
 Arise, tis Freedom s natal morn, 
 
 Ye sons of FAUST, arise, 
 For ever swear to guard 
 
 The dearly-purchas d prize. 
 
 The words in italics are technical terms, peculiar to the Art, 
 
104 WOOD WORTH S. Patriotic. 
 Odes for the Celebration of American Independence. 
 
 Who threats with foreign rule, 
 
 Our shooting-sticks defy 5 
 We ll have a brush with all, 
 
 Before we take thfe lie. 
 We ll hush the English lion s roar, 
 
 French cannon we ll compose, 
 The form of tyranny beat o er, 
 
 And hot-press all our foes. 
 Arise, ^is Freedom s natal mom. 
 
 Ye sons of FAUST, arise, 
 For ever swear to guard 
 
 The dearly-purchas d prize. 
 
 Long may we keep the morn, 
 
 Which gave our nation birth, 
 And when, at length, our works 
 
 Are finished here on earth 
 May we our Heavenly Author mee^ 
 
 (Our earthly forms forsook) 
 And each become a perfect sheet 
 
 In His eternal book. 
 Till then, on Freedom s natal morn. 
 
 Let joyful paeans rise : 
 To-day for us was born, 
 
 The goddess of the skies. 
 
Patriotic. WOOD WORTH S. J Q; 
 
 Odes for the Celebration of American Independence. 
 
 ODE 6. 
 
 Written for the celebration of Independence by the 
 New-York Typographical Society. 
 
 From the crystalline courts of the temple of light, 
 
 The dove-eye of mercy to earth was directed, 
 Where mortals were grov ling, deep-shrouded in night ; 
 For passion was worshipp d and wisdom rejected : 
 Immersed in each ill 
 Of corrupted free-will, 
 
 Yet, mercy was patient, and vengeance slept still : 
 For infinite Love had his banner unfurPd, 
 And the precepts of wisdom were preach d to the 
 world. 
 
 But haughty Ambition extended his reign, 
 
 And wielded the sceptre of magic delusion, 
 Held reason enshackled in tyranny s chain, 
 
 And govern d by knowledge and learning s exclusion : 
 With mitre and hood, 
 Superstition and blood, 
 
 Corruption and vice deluged earth like a flood ; 
 The blood-crimson d banner of war was unfurPd, 
 And knowledge and learning were swept from the 
 world. 
 
106 WOOD WORTH S. Patriotic 
 
 Odes for the Celebration of American Independence. 
 
 Deep lockM in the shrine of antiquity s lore, 
 
 The scriptures of light were withheld unexpounded ? 
 A counterfeit Peter still guarded the door, 
 
 And the seekers of truth were by error confounded. 
 Omnipotence saw 
 Bade delusion withdraw, 
 
 And ordain d that OUR ART should promulgate his law. 
 Then Genius its fetters at Tyranny hurl d, 
 And Printing appeared to enlighten the world. 
 
 The blush of Aurora now lighted the East, 
 
 And banish d the darkness of mystical terror : 
 Man sprang from the shrine where he d worship d the 
 
 beast, 
 
 While prejudice own d and relinquished his error, 
 The truth was received, 
 Admired and believed, 
 
 And our s is the art which the blessing achieved : 
 For now was the banner of wisdom unfurFd, 
 And Printing promulgated truth through the world. 
 
 The sage of Genoa, whose high-soaring soul, 
 
 By a flash from our art, glow d with new inspiration ; 
 In brilliant perspective saw glory s bright goal, 
 
 And enroll d a new world on the page of creation, 
 With fame-swelling breast, 
 Still onward he press d, 
 
Patriotic. WOODWORTH S. 
 
 Odes for the Celebration of Aim-rican Independence. 
 
 Till Eden s bright regions appeard in the West, 
 Each clime saw the canvas of Europe Unfiirl d, 
 While Printing taught commerce to polish the world. 
 
 But the sons of the West, to more glory were born ; 
 
 And to us shall proud Europe the laurel surrender : 
 For though her s was the blushing effulgence of morn. 
 Yet our s is the noon of meridian splendour ; 
 For Heaven decreed 
 That Columbia be freed, 
 
 And Printing and valour accomplish d the deed. 
 The banner of war was by Justice unfurFd, 
 And freedom by Printing proclaim d to the world. 
 
 Our Standard the Eagle of Libert}* bears, 
 
 His eyes, like the stars which surround him, re 
 splendent ; 
 
 While the olive asks peace, every arrow declares, 
 " Columbia for ever shall be Independent ;" 
 For freedom is our s, 
 Nor shall Europe s mad powers 
 A feather e er filch from our bird as he towers ; 
 And while Printing its influence extends through 
 
 the world, 
 The banner of freedom shall never be furlM. 
 
108 WOOD WORTH S. Patriotic. 
 
 Odes for the Celebration of American Independence . 
 
 ODE 7. 
 For the Netc-York Typographical Society. 
 
 When o er proud Tiber s flood 
 
 Fair Science rear d her dome. 
 And Greece had lent her arts 
 
 To gild imperial Rome, 
 Ambitious Genius aim d her flight 
 
 To seek unknown renown. 
 But, veil d in sable shades of night. 
 
 She sunk bewilderd down ; 
 For fate to them denied the art 
 
 Which gives fair knowledge birth. 
 Refines the human heart, 
 
 And scatters bliss on earth. 
 
 No soft refinements graced 
 
 Or harmonized the mind, 
 For madd ning wars career 
 
 Left calmer joys behind ; 
 The social ties which life endear 
 
 Their thoughts could ne er engage : 
 The sympathetic smile and tear 
 
 Were lost in battle s rage : 
 For fate to them denied the art 
 
 Which gives fair knowledge birth. 
 Refines the human heart, 
 
 And scatters bliss on earth. 
 
Patriot..- WOOD WORTH S. 10Q 
 
 Odes for the Celebration of American hidependouce. 
 
 Time told a thousand years 
 
 On his eventful page, 
 When Faust, at length, appears 
 
 To bless the happy age ; 
 His plastic hand lends Genius wings, 
 
 Bids Wisdom proudly soar, 
 And infant Learning joyful springs 
 
 With powers unknown before. 
 His was the Heaven-descended art 
 
 To give fair knowledge birth, 
 To mend the human heart, 
 
 And civilize the earth. 
 
 The sun of science rose 
 
 And chased the clouds of night 3 
 While wondering realms survey d, 
 
 Astonish d at the sight 
 The social arts, in Wisdom s train, 
 
 With love and peace advance, 
 Teach man to feel his fellow s pain.. 
 
 A brother s joy enhance. 
 Ours is the Heaven-descended art 
 
 To give fair knowledge birth, 
 To mend the human heart. 
 
 And civilize the earth. 
 
HO WOODWORTH b. Patriotic, 
 
 Odes for the Celebration of American Independence. 
 
 Hail, art of arts ! all hail ! 
 
 Thy praises mock the lyre 5 
 To reach the boundless theme, 
 
 Its tones in vain aspire ; 
 But grateful hearts, who feel the bliss 
 
 Thy magic power bestows. 
 Respond to every strain like this, 
 
 How dull soe er it flows : 
 Our s is the Heaven-descended art 
 
 To give fair knowledge birth, 
 To mend the human heart, 
 
 And civilize the earth. 
 
 ODE 8. 
 For the New-York Typographical Society. 
 
 Awake the loud trumpet, tis Freedom invites. 
 
 Let heroes unite in the strain ; 
 The olive of PEACE with the laurel unites, 
 
 And music swells sweet o er the plain. 
 Thy birth, Independence, by freemen be kept, 
 
 Till Tyranny s banner be furl d, 
 Till despots have bled, where their victims have wept. 
 
 And Freedom has spread o er the world. 
 
Patriotic. WOOD WORTH S. 
 
 Ill 
 
 Odes for the Celebration of American Independence. 
 
 When dark Superstition had fetter d the mind. 
 
 And Reason in bondage was bound. 
 The goddess descended to ransom mankind, 
 
 And Genius arose from the ground. 
 The PRESS she established, a pillar of fire, 
 
 (While Night s sable curtain was furl d,} 
 Its splendour bade mystic Delusion retire, 
 
 And PRINTING gave light to the world. 
 
 The daring Columbus his canvas unfurl d, 
 
 A nation arose in the West, 
 The store-house of Europe, a mart for the world, 
 
 A home for the poor and oppressed. 
 Here Freedom s bright temple effulgent shall shine, 
 
 Her flag o er its turrets unfurl d, 
 Our arms have twice saved it, twill never decline 
 
 While PRINTING gives light to the world. 
 
WOOD WORTH S. Pafiolk- 
 
 Odes for the Celebration of American Independence. 
 
 ODE 9* 
 
 For the New~York Typographical Society. 
 
 When, wrapped in folds of papal gloom, 
 
 Dark Superstition awed the world, 
 Consign d fair Knowledge to the tomb, 
 
 And Error s sable flag unfurPd 5 
 Earth heard this mandate from the skies 
 " Let there be light great ART arise." 
 
 Fair Science wiped her tears and smiled* 
 And infant Genius plumed his wing : 
 
 The Arts assemble round the child, 
 And all this glowing chorus sing 
 
 Rise, sun of science ! quick arise . 
 
 And lend thy light to darken *d eyes. 
 
 Our Art arose, and man had light, 
 
 The clouds of superstition fled, 
 The fiend of ignorance took his flight, 
 
 D Of 
 
 And Error hid his hateful head ; 
 Whilst swelFd this chorus to the skies 
 ;i Our Art shall live, and Freedom rise."" 
 
 The goddess, who for ages past, 
 Had wept beneath despotic night, 
 
 Her cankering fetters burst at last, 
 And claim d the charter of her risjht : 
 
Patriotfc. WOOD WORTH S. 113 
 
 Odes for the Celebration of American Independence. 
 
 While men and seraphs join d this strain 
 " Printing shall live, and Freedom reign." 
 
 Hail, Freedom ! hail, celestial guest ! 
 
 O never from thy sons depart ; 
 Thine be the empire of the West, 
 
 Thy temple every freeman s heart 5 
 The Art of Printing gave thee birth, 
 And brightens still thy reign on earth. 
 
 Arise, ye favour d sons of light, 
 
 Professors of our heaven-born Art 
 
 And in the chorus all unite, 
 
 While joy expands each throbbing heart : 
 
 " The Art of Printing shall endure, 
 
 And Independence be secure." 
 
 30* 
 
114 WOODWORTH S . Patriotic. 
 
 OJes for the Celebration of American Independence. 
 
 ODE 10. 
 For the New-York Typographical Society. 
 
 Hail to the Art whose effulgence has brightenM 
 
 The darkness that shroucted, for ages, the world ; 
 Long shall fair Freedom, by Printing enlightened, 
 Wave the bright banner her sons have unfurl d. 
 
 Dark was the human mind, 
 
 And hood-wink d Reason blind, 
 While Tyranny gave to his war-steeds the rein ;,. 
 
 Then Faust arose to bless, 
 
 And gave to man the press, 
 Free as the billows of Neptune s domain. 
 
 Then Liberty rous d from the slumber of ages, 
 
 And taught a new nation to, rise in the West; 
 While History, smiling, unfolded her pages, 
 And show d the bright name of Columbia impress^ 
 
 Long fought her patriot band, 
 
 Blood flow d around the land, 
 Till Liberty triumph d o er Tyranny s powers 5 
 
 The light w-hiqli Printing shed, 
 
 Like SoFs effulgence spread, 
 And Glory, with bright Independence, was pur s* 
 
Patriotic. WOOD WORTH S. 
 
 Ode for the Celebration of American Independence. 
 
 Beaming with splendour, from Liberty s altar, 
 
 Ascended the flame which our Art had kept bright, 
 When demons united again to assault her, 
 Demolish her shrine, and extinguish its light. 
 
 Hark ! trumpets sound alarms, 
 
 Drums, bugles, call to arms 
 Arouse, freemen, rouse ! to the field like your sires ! 
 
 Soon shall the foemen yield > 
 
 Or fly the embattled field, 
 For Liberty triumphs while Printing inspires. 
 
 Twice have our arms Independence protected, 
 
 And twice haughty Britain has yielded the fight ; 
 Long shall our valour and rights be respected ? 
 Long shall, the blaze of our glory be bright. 
 Then hail the heaven-born Art, 
 Which first improved the heart, 
 And ransom dthe mind from the thraldom of sense ? 
 Long shall Columbia bless 
 The free unshackled Press, 
 Liberty s ./Egis, and Virtue s defence. 
 
116 WOOD WORTH S. Patriotic, 
 
 The Bugle or Chandler s Surprise. 
 
 THE BUGLE. 
 
 Deep murmuring down the lonely dell, 
 The dull tattoo, with drowsy swell, 
 Had bid the march-worn soldier rest, 
 With armour buckled on his breast. 
 
 But, hark ! what cry alarms ? 
 
 The foe at hand ! to arms ! 
 
 And, darting from the ground, 
 
 The slumbering veterans bound, 
 While the Bugle sounds the CHARGE, rousing echo with 
 the sound. 
 
 And now the cannon s sullen roar 
 Deep rolls along Ontario s shore, 
 While Freedom s sons surprised remain, 
 Their watchword stole their pickets slain. 
 
 In vain their- trump alarms, 
 
 In vain they cry, to arms ! 
 
 The foe from ambush springs, 
 
 Their yell the welkin rings, 
 
 While the Bugle sounds RETREAT, adding speed to ter 
 ror s wings. 
 
 Shall Freedom s veterans fly the field, 
 Her heroes shrink her chieftains yield ? 
 Say r where s the spirit of the brave 
 Who bled Columbia s rights to save ? 
 
Patriotic. WOOD WORTH S. 1 1 f 
 
 Ode for the Presidential iri;iui ura ion, Murch 4, 1817. 
 
 It lives ! it breathes ! it warms ! 
 Roused by the clash of arms, 
 Vengeance, with eye of flame, 
 Fires with a love of fame, 
 
 While the Bude sounds the RALLY, until victory we 
 claim. 
 
 INAUGURATION ODE. 
 
 While the vassals of Tyranny rivet their chains 
 By birth-day effusions, and base adulation, 
 
 Let freemen express, in their holiday strains, 
 The voice of a people the choice of a nation. 
 
 Let laureats sing for the birth of a king, 
 -"Tis ours to rejoice for the first fruits of spring ; 
 
 For still shall the Fourth Day of March ever yield 
 
 A harvest of glory in Liberty s field. 
 
 Encircled with glory, the Chieftain retires, 
 
 Who led us in safety thro war s dread commotion ; 
 
 While the spirit that rais d him, another inspires, 
 To watch o er our rights with equal devotion. 
 
 MONROE shall preside, his countrymen s pride, 
 The Soldier, the Statesman, the Patriot well tried 
 
 And thus shall the Fourth Day of March ever yield. 
 
 V harvest of glory in Liberty s field. 
 
118 WOOD WORTH S. Patriotic. 
 
 Ode for the Presidential Inauguration, 1817. 
 
 To legitimate tyrants no freeman shall bow 
 To VIRTUE alone will we pay veneration : 
 
 The Chiefs of Columbia are call d from the plough. 
 And retire from the chair to the same occupation. 
 Thus TOMPKINS arose, in the face of his foes. 
 
 For the path of a patriot the " Farmers Boy" chose ; 
 
 And thus shall the Fourth Day cf March ever yield 
 
 A harvest of glory in Liberty s field. 
 
 Then hail to the day that beholds us once more 
 
 Place the chaplet of power on the brow of true merit: 
 *Tis the sacred insignia our WASHINGTON wore 
 A legacy none but the good shall inherit : 
 To the Patriot MONROE the tribute we owe, 
 Till the people reclaim it again to bestow 5 
 And the Fourth Day of March be again made to yield 
 A harvest of glory in Liberty s field. 
 
 Let freemen unite on this festival day 
 
 To celebrate Liberty s triumph in chorus ; 
 
 Awaken the trumpet our banners display, 
 
 And hail the bright prospect that opens before us ; 
 In paeans of joy your voices employ, 
 
 For the Patriot MONROE, and our own < FARMER S BOY f 
 
 And ne er may the Fourth Day of March cease to yield 
 
 A harvest of glory in Liberty s field. 
 
Patriotic. WOODWORTH S. 
 
 Hiberaia s Tears. 
 
 HIBERNtA S TEARS. 
 
 Hibernians tears for ever flow, 
 
 Her harp in silence slumbers ; 
 Her bards the patriot song forego. 
 
 Nor dare to breathe its numbers. 
 No more they bid the swelling tone 
 
 In Freedom s cause awaken ; 
 Those happy days of bliss are flown, 
 
 And Erin weeps forsaken ! 
 
 But though her sons in exile roam, 
 
 They sleep on Freedom s pillow ; 
 And Erin s daughters find a home, 
 
 Beyond the western billow. 
 There shall they breathe the glowing strain, 
 
 To joy s ecstatic numbers ; 
 There Erin s harp shall wake again., 
 
 In rapture, from its slumbers. 
 
120 WOOD WORTH S. Patriotic. 
 
 The Exiled Harper. 
 
 THE EXILED HARPER. 
 
 < 
 
 <k/ Friendless exile ! old and hoary, 
 
 Banish sorrow and complaint, 
 Wake thy harp to Erin ? s glory, 
 
 Sing the lay of Erin s saint. 7 
 
 *Twas Saint Patrick s festal morning, 
 When I met th e man of grief ; 
 
 On his cheek the tear was burning, 
 Wither d was the shamrock s leaf. 
 
 " No ! (exclaim d the aged stranger) 
 
 Erin s glory is no more, 
 Hordes of bloody tyrants range her 
 
 Freedom flies Hibernia s shore. 
 
 * * Shackled with the yoke of Britain; 
 
 Doom d to vassalage and chains, 
 Be her name nor sung nor written 
 
 Till oppression fly her plains, 
 
 " Bright she shines in ancient legends. 
 
 When her sons awoke the lay, 
 Ere her peaceful verdant regions 
 
 Groan d beneath ambition s sway. 
 
patriotic. WOODWORTH S. 
 
 The Exiled Harper. 
 
 " Ask me not to sing of glory ; 
 
 For, by all the griefs I bear, 
 By these scatter d locks so hoary, 
 
 By our holy saint, I swear ^ 
 
 ^ Erin s harp shall ever slumber, 
 Never whisper through the vale, 
 
 Never breathe a tuneful number 
 Pregnant with dishonour s tale. 
 
 - Fallen are the chiefs of Erin, 
 
 Fallen in their country ? s cause, 
 Green their tombs are now appearing, 
 
 There her weeping daughters pause. 
 
 * When the night-blast scours the mountains,, 
 When it murmurs through the groves, 
 
 Mournful, by the dusky fountains, 
 EMMET S shade in sadness moves. 
 
 - See, it points to ^urs d oppression ! 
 
 Hark ! its shrieks arrest the gale ! 
 Hurl your thunders on aggression, 
 
 Bid our warriors fill the vale. 
 
 " Veterans, rouse ! and save your natioft ! 
 
 Hark ! the trumpet calls to arms !" 
 ** Stranger ! calm this perturbation, 
 
 Here no martial trump alarms/* 
 11 
 
WOODWORTH S. Patriotic. 
 
 The Exiled Harper. 
 
 In his eye, where fire was beaming, 
 Now appeared the tear of grief 
 
 ee No, he sighed, I was but dreaming 
 Erin groans without relief.* 
 
 ?< But I ll feed the fond reflection, 
 Days of other months review, 
 
 Call again to recollection 
 
 Dear companions whom I knew. 
 
 rt Now oppress d by power and violence^ 
 Not a harp-string breathes a tone, 
 
 Wrapt in sorrow, thought, and silence, 
 Erin s hapless minstrels moan. 
 
 f* Sing of Erin s glory ! madness . 
 Would our Saint accept the lay ? 
 
 No devote to silent sadness 
 This our patron s festive day." 
 
 * The author readily acknowledges that this trait in the picture 
 was suggested by Montgomery s Wanderer of Switzerland. But he 
 declines making any alteration, 
 
Patriotic. WOODWORTH S. 
 
 The fair Irish Orphan. 
 
 THE IRISH ORPHAN. 
 
 A dialogue supposed to have taken place between a citizen- 
 of New-York, and a female Irish emigrant. 
 
 Citizen. 
 
 Irish maiden, whither fly you? 
 
 Whence the moisture on your cheek ? 
 Danger here shall not come nigh you 
 
 Tell me what, and whom, you seek. 
 
 Irish Girl. 
 
 Pity, sir, a hapless stranger, 
 
 Friendless on a foreign shore ! 
 Much, alas ! I fear of danger 
 
 I m from Erin just come o er. 
 
 Citizen. 
 
 Where s your kindred, friend, protector B 
 
 Sure you ventured not alone ? 
 Had you not some kind director ? 
 
 Father, brother have you none ? 
 
 Irish Girl 
 
 Yes, I have I had a brother, 
 
 Once a widowed parent s stay ; 
 Yes, alas ! I had a mother 
 
 Both by fate were snatch* d awav ! 
 
(24 WOOD WORTHS. Patriotic. 
 
 The fair Irish /rplian. 
 
 Citizen. 
 
 Then, an orphan, unprotected, 
 You have left your native isle, 
 
 To Columbia s shore directed, 
 
 Where you meet no kindred smile? 
 
 Irish GirL 
 
 !\ 7 o a parent, and a brother, 
 With me from oppression run ; 
 
 Death deprived me of my mother 
 Cruel Britons pressed her son. 
 
 Under Freedom s banner sailing, 
 Just in view of Freedom s shore,. 
 
 Brightening prospects Hope was hailing,. 
 Whispering future bliss in store : 
 
 When we spied the flag of Briton, 
 
 Where foreboding fancy read 
 Some impending evil written 
 
 How my bosom beat with dread ! 
 
 First, a shot our course arrested, 
 
 Then their slaves disgraced our deck 
 
 Fathers from their children wrested ! 
 Sn from parent s sister s neck I 
 
Patriotie. WOODWORTH S. 125 
 
 The fair Irish < M-pha i 
 
 Spare ! I cried, oh ! spare my brother ! 
 
 Spare him for a parent s sake ! 
 Save . oh . save him . cried my mother, 
 
 Or his sister s heart will break ! 
 
 Smiling pirates ! they but mockM us I 
 Laugh d at fond affection s grief! 
 
 And with brutal language shork d us y 
 While we wept without relief! 
 
 i 
 
 But when from us they departed, 
 Shrieks of anguish pierced the air !" 
 
 Then my mother, broken hearted. 
 Fell, the victim of despair ! 
 
 Pity, then, a hapless stranger, 
 Friendless on a foreign shore ! 
 
 O protect a maid from danger, 
 Who for comfort looks no more ! 
 
 Citizen. 
 
 Yes, fair daughter of oppression ! 
 
 Exile from Hibernians plains, 
 Victim of that curs d aggression 
 
 Which the flag of freedom stains ; 
 
 Here I swear to be thy brother j. 
 
 See a sister in my wife ; 
 Find a parent in my mother 
 
 I ll protect thee with my life.. 
 
 IT* 
 
126 WOOD WORTH S. Naval and 
 
 Victory No. 1 Cousfilution and Guerriere. 
 
 VICTORY No. l. 
 CONSTITUTION AND GUERRIERE. 
 
 Hark ! ? twas the trumpet of victory sounded f 
 
 Welcome the strain to a freeman so dear ; 
 See, with a halo of glory surrounded, 
 
 HULL, ourjirst hero, in triumph appear ! 
 Vainly the foeman his prowess had vaunted, 
 
 Proudly deriding our infantile fleet ; 
 HULL met the boaster with courage undaunted, 
 DACRES, as resolute, scorn d to retreat. 
 Short was the dreadful fray, 
 On that eventful day, 
 
 Freedom s proud eagle still hovered on high : 
 Bright gleam d the crosslet too, 
 While fierce the volleys flew, 
 Shaking tlie ocean and rending the sky. 
 
 Short was the contest, but dreadful the slaughter. 
 
 Long shall Britannia lament for her tars ; 
 Death held his carnival on the deep water, 
 
 Scattered with carnage and fragments of spars. 
 Still, like a tempest, the bold Constitution 
 
 Deluged the foeman with ruin and blood; 
 Whelm d the proud Warrior in horrid confusion. 
 
 Till she lay. ? sparless, a log on the flood,, 
 
Patriotic. WOOD WORTH S. 
 
 Naval Victory No 1 Constitution and Guerriere. 
 
 Still she prolonged the fray, 
 
 On that destructive day, 
 Still Freedom s banner was waving on high. 
 
 Low gleanrd the cross in view, 
 
 While fierce the volleys flew, 
 Shaking the ocean and rending the sky. 
 
 Short was the contest the Warrior surrendered, 
 Covered with carnage and streaming with gore 
 Tenderest aid to the wounded was rendered, 
 
 Foemen once vanquished are foemen no more. 
 Hail, then, the hero, who, covered with glory, 
 
 Humbled the pride of our arrogant foe ; 
 Long may his name be emblazon d in story, 
 Long may his laurels continue to grow. 
 Then shout aloud his name, 
 And loud the deed proclaim 
 HULL taught Britannia s red cross to descend ; 
 HULL led the glorious way, 
 HuLL/bttgfa, and won the day 
 Victory crowns him, and Freemen eommend, 
 
j28 WOODWORTH S. Naval and 
 
 Victory No. 2 Wasp and Frolic. 
 
 VICTORY No. 2. 
 
 WASP AND FROLIC. 
 
 Awake the bugle s martial voice. 
 
 In loud triumphant strain ; 
 Columbia s sons again rejoice 
 For Victory on the Main! 
 Another chieftain of our choice 
 The brave intrepid Jones, 
 Claims our lays, 
 To his praise, 
 We wake the clarion s tones. 
 
 Indignant at the wrongs we bore, 
 
 From British pride and hate, 
 He, fearless, left Columbia s shore. 
 
 To try the battle s fate ; 
 And soon the cannon s mingled roar r 
 Announced the foe engaged 
 Side by side, 
 On the tide, 
 The dreadful fight they waged* 
 
 The horrid din of battle swelFd r 
 
 As o er the watery field, 
 An equal course the vessels held. 
 
 Resolving ne er to yield- 
 
Patriotic. WOODWORTH S. 
 
 Vii lory Ao. 2 Wasp 
 
 Attempts at boarding still repell d, 
 And still the fire was poured ; 
 
 Bright it broke 
 
 Through the smoke, 
 While loud the cannons roar d. 
 
 The vessels close and, hark ! the crash 
 
 That rends their groaning planks ; 
 The foeman s fire has ceas d to flash, 
 
 For death has thimvd his ranks ; 
 And nought avail d his valour rash, 
 He yields to gallant Jones 
 To whose praise 
 Wake our lays, 
 In victory s richest tones. 
 
130 WOOD WORTH S. Naval and 
 
 Victory No. 3 tinned Mates and Macedonian. 
 
 VICTORY No.,3.. 
 UNITED STATES AND MACEDONIAN. 
 
 The banner of FREEDOM high floated unfurl d, 
 While the silver-tipt surges in low homage curPd, 
 Flashing bright round the bow of a ship under sail, 
 In fight, like the tempest in speed, like the gale. 
 She bears our country s name, 
 She builds our country s fame, 
 The bold United States, disdains to yield or fly ; 
 Her motto is " Glory we conquer or die." 
 
 All canvas expanded the gale to embrace, 
 The ship clear d for action, still nearing the chase 5 
 The foeman in view every bosom beats high, 
 All eager for conquest, or ready to die. 
 
 Columbia s gallant tars, 
 
 Who sail beneath her stars, 
 
 Shall ne er be known to yield shall ne er ignobly fly 
 Their motto is " Glory we conquer or die." 
 
 Still rapidly lessens the distance between, 
 Till the gay-floating streamers of Britain are seen ; 
 Till our quick-sighted chief could with rapture espy, 
 The cross, like a meteor, gleaming on high. 
 
 To gild our country s name, 
 
 To rival Hull in fame, 
 
Patriotic. VVOODWORTH b. 
 
 Victory No. 3 I nited btates and Macedonian. 
 
 The brave Decatur now resolves the fight to try 
 His motto is u Glory we conquer or die." 
 
 Now Havoc stands ready with optics of flame. 
 And battle-hounds strain on the start for the game ; 
 The blood-demons rise on the surge for their prey., 
 While Pity, dejected, awaits the dread fray. 
 
 But Freedom s gallant sons, 
 
 Now station d at their guns, 
 
 Remember Freedom s wrongs, and smother Pity s sigh ; 
 Their motto is " Glory we conquer or die." 
 
 Now the lightning of battle gleams horribly red, 
 Wliile a tempest of iron, and a hail-storm of lead, 
 Like a flood on the foe was so copiously pour d, 
 That his mizen and topmasts soon went by the board. 
 
 Still fight Columbia s tars, 
 
 Beneath the stripes and stars, 
 
 For still their country s flag is proudly floating high 
 Their motto is " Glory we conquer or die*"* 
 
 The contest continued with horrible roar, 
 The demons of vengeance still feasting on gore ; 
 Till more than an hundred of Britain s brave sons 
 Lay bleeding on deck by the side of their guns : 
 
 When low the cross descends, 
 
 And quick the battle ends, 
 
 The Macedonian yields, her streamers kiss the wave,; 
 Our motto is " Glory we conquer to save." 
 
132 WOOD WORTH S. Naval and 
 
 Victory No. 4 Constitution ami Java. 
 
 Let Britain no longer lay claim to the seas, 
 For the trident of Neptune is our s, if we please ; 
 While Hull, and Decatur, and Jones, are our boast, 
 In vain their huge navy may threaten our coast. 
 They ?ild Columbia s name, 
 They build Columbia s fame ; 
 And to revenge our wrongs, to battle eager fly ; 
 Their motto is " Glory we conquer or die? 
 
 VICTORY No. 4. 
 CONSTITUTION AND JAVA. 
 
 Yankee tars ! come, join the chorus, 
 
 Shout aloud the patriot strain ; 
 Freedom s flag, again victorious, 
 
 Floats triumphant o er the main. 
 Hail the gallant Constitution, 
 
 HULL immortalized her name, 
 BAINBRIDGE, round it, in profusion. 
 
 Pours the golden blaze of fame. 
 
 Scarce had Fame her Hull rewarded* 
 
 Kre intrepid Eainbridge rose, 
 Eager, while the world applauded, 
 
 To subdue his country s foes. 
 Hail the gallant Constitution, &c. 
 
fatriotic. WOODWORTH S. 133 
 
 Victory No. 4 Constitution and Java. 
 
 Hull, on board the Constitution, 
 Sunk his foe beneath the flood ; 
 
 Fired with equal resolution, 
 
 Bainbridge sought the scene of blood. 
 
 Hail the gallant Constitution, &c. 
 
 Lambert met him in the Java, 
 Fierce the hot contention rose 
 
 Like the streams of Etna ? s lava, 
 Fell our vengeance on the foes. 
 
 Hail the gallant Constitution, &c. 
 
 Neptune shumvd the fierce commotion, 
 Saw his realm with carnage spread, 
 
 Saw our fire illume the ocean, 
 Covered with the floating dead. 
 
 Hail the gallant Constitution, &c. 
 
 Twice had Time his glass inverted, 
 While the strife deform d the flood, 
 
 Ere the fiend of death, diverted, 
 Ceased to glut on human blood. 
 
 Hail the gallant Constitution, &c. 
 
 See, our foe, upon the billow, 
 
 Floats a wreck without a spar- 
 Lowly lies on ocean s pillow, 
 
 Many a brave and gallant tar. 
 Hail the gallant Constitution, &c. 
 12 
 
134 WOOD WORTH S. Naval and 
 
 Victory No. 4 Constitution an 
 
 Hark ! his lee-gun speaks submission, 
 Bid our vengeful tars forbear 
 
 IVlercy views the foe s condition, 
 Sees a bleeding brother there. 
 
 Hail the gallant Constitution, &c. 
 
 Man the boats : the foe, confounded, 
 
 Yields to our superior fire; 
 Board the prize relieve the wounded I 
 
 Ere in anguish they expire. 
 Hail the gallant Constitution, &c. 
 
 Ah ! the fight was hard contested, 
 Groaning there, an hundred bleed^ 
 
 Sixty-nine has death arrested, 
 From their floating prisons freed. 
 
 Hail the gallant Constitution, &c. 
 
 Clear the wreck ! she cannot swim, boys 
 See ! she follows the Guerriere ! 
 
 Now your cans fill to the brim, boys,, 
 Sing our navy s bright career. 
 
 Hail the gallant Constitution, &c. 
 
 Toast the heroes famed in story, 
 Hull, Decatur, Rodgers, Jones: 
 
 Bainbridge, chief in naval glory, 
 Smiling Freedom joyful OWHS- 
 
Patriotic. WOOD WORTH S. 135 
 
 Victory iNo. 5 Hornet and Peacock. 
 
 Hail the gallant Constitution, 
 
 Hull immjrtalized her name ; 
 BAINBLUDGE, round it, in profusion ; 
 
 Peurs the golden blaze of fame. 
 
 VICTORY No. 5. 
 HORNET AND PEACOCK. 
 
 Rejoice ! rejoice ! Fredonia s sons rejoice ! 
 
 And swell the loud trumpet in patriotic straiia ; 
 Your choice, your choice, fair Freedom is your choice^ 
 
 Then celebrate her triumphs on the main. 
 For the trident of Neptune, long by Britain wielded^ 
 \t length to Fredonia reluctantly is yielded. 
 Then for Hull, Decatur, Jones, 
 And for Bainbridge, swell the tones, 
 While the ready hand of Fame 
 Bright emblazons every name 
 .Brave Lawrence, gallant Lawrence, now is shouted with 
 
 acclaim. 
 Huzza, huzza, huzza, huzza, huzza, boys, 
 
 Free is our soil, and the ocean shall be free j 
 >ur tars, shall Mars, protect beneath our stars, 
 And Freedom s Eagle hover o er the sea. 
 
136 WOODWORTH S. Karal and 
 
 Victory No. 5 Hornet and Peacock. 
 
 Attend, attend, ye gallant tars, attend, 
 
 While your deeds are recounted in patriotic song 5 
 Ascend, ascend, your banners high ascend, 
 
 And 3 r our cannon the loud chorus still prolong. 
 First, the bold Constitution led the path of glory,. 
 The gallant little Wasp then added to the story ; 
 Scon a brighter glory waits, 
 The renown d United States 
 For she gave Columbia s fleet, 
 A new frigate that she beat ; 
 
 While the famed Constitution sunk another in the deep. 
 Huzza, huzza, huzza, huzza, huzza, boys, 
 
 Free is our soil, and the ocean shall be free ; 
 Our tars, shall Mars, protect beneath our stars, 
 And Freedom s Eagle hover o er the sea. 
 
 Again, again, Columbia s flag again, 
 
 Triumphantly floats where Britannia s us d to soar ; 
 In vain the main has own d the Peacock s reign, 
 
 Her gaudy rainbow-honours are no more ! 
 For Lawrence taught the Hornet so fiercely to assail her, 
 That all her boasted prowess in fight could not avail her ; 
 
 But she ended her career, 
 
 Like the Java and Gueiriere, 
 
 For the Hornet s sting was ply d, 
 
 Till the sea, with blushes died, 
 Its tyrant s fifth defeat in its bosojn sought to hide. 
 
Patriotic. WOOD WORTH S. 
 
 Victory No. 5 Hornet and Peacock. 
 
 Huzza, huzza, huzza, huzza, huzza, boys, 
 
 Free is our soil, and the ocean shall be free 5 
 
 Our tars, shall Mars, protect beneath our stars, 
 And Freedom s Eagle hover o er the sea. 
 
 Unite, unite, Columbia s sons, unite, 
 
 And hurl on aggressors the tempest they provoke 
 The fight is right, then raise your sabres bright, 
 And Britons soon shall tremble at the stroke. 
 The foe on our coast ! put your mountain-oaks in motion, 
 Fly to the main, for your wrongs were on the ocean ,5 
 There, in a flood of fire, 
 Every tar shall breathe his ire : 
 His motto, while he fights, 
 Be Free Trade and Sailors Rights," 
 Till even-handed Justice every injury requites. 
 Huzza, huzza, huzza, huzza, huzza, boys, 
 
 Free is our soil, and the ocean shall be free $ 
 Our tars, shall Mars, protect beneath our stars,. 
 And Freedom s Eagle hover o er the sea 
 
138 WOOD WORTH S. Naval and 
 
 Victory No. 6 Enterprise an Boxer. 
 
 VICTORY No. 6. 
 ENTERPRISE AND BOXER. 
 
 Thro the gloom of despondence, bright glory appears. 
 
 And scatters again on the ocean its splendour ; 
 Hark ! Freedom s loud clarion proclaims to the spheres, 
 The names of more heroes who die to defend her. 
 On LAWRENCE S bier, 
 Yet glisten d her tear, 
 
 When this full-sounding chorus saluted her ear : 
 No tyrant shall ever rule over that flood, 
 Which LAWRENCE and BURROWS have stain d with 
 their blood. 
 
 Delighted, she listen d, and learn d from the strain 
 That her flag was victorious while Britain s de 
 scended : 
 
 And though her tears fell for the fate of the slain, 
 She gloried in sons who so nobly defended : 
 Who in Liberty s cause, 
 With Heaven s applause, 
 
 Had died in defence of their country and laws. 
 Now vainly shall tyrants lay claim to that flood, 
 "Which LAWRENCE- and BURROWS have stain d with 
 their blood. 
 
Patriotic. WOODWORTH S. 139 
 
 Vi-.-tw-rv No. 6 Enterprise and Boxer. 
 
 Young BURROWS, unknown on the annals of Fame, 
 
 Arose and laid claim to a chaplet of laurel ; 
 Fought the Boxer enveloped in sulphur and flame, 
 Till the victory he gain d, though he died in the 
 
 quarrel. 
 
 On VICTORY S breast, 
 The hero shall rest, 
 
 While his spirit aspires to the realms of the blest. 
 And ne er shall a tyrant rule over that flood, 
 Which LAWRENCE and BURROWS have stain d with 
 their blood. 
 
 Then fill up your goblets, bid sorrow adieu, 
 
 The heroes who fell are encircled with glory ; 
 W T hile music inspires, let us toast the brave crew, 
 Who survive the hot contest, to tell us the story ; 
 The fight they ll ne er shun, 
 For with gun matclrd to gun, 
 ln triumph we only count six to their one. 
 No tyrant shall ever rule over that flood, 
 Which LAWRENCE and BURHOWS have stain d with 
 their blood. 
 
140 WOOD WORTH S. Naval and 
 
 Victories No. 7 and No. 11 combined Lakes Erie and Champlain. 
 
 VICTORIES No. 7 & 11. 
 
 PERRY AND MACDONOUGH on, ERIE AND CHAMPLAIX. 
 September 10, 1813, and September 11, 1814, 
 
 Hail to the day which arises in splendour, 
 
 Shedding the lustre of victory far ! 
 Long shall its glory illumine September, 
 
 Which twice beheld freemen the victors in war, 
 Rous d by the spirit bf heaven-born Freedom, 
 
 Perry her lightning pours over the lake $ 
 His faulchion a meteor glitters to lead them, 
 
 And swift on the foemen in thunders they break. 
 Loud swells the cannon s roar, 
 Round Erie s sounding shore, 
 Answered in vollej^s by musketry s voice j 
 Till Britain s cross descends, 
 And the haughty foe bends 
 Victory ! Glory ! Columbians, rejoice ! 
 
 Hail to the day which, in splendour returning, 
 
 Lights us to conquest and glory again $ 
 Time told a year still the war-torch was burning,. 
 
 And threw its red ray on the waves of Champlain 5 
 Rous d by the spirit that conquer d for Perry, 
 
 Dauntless Macdonough advanc d to the fray 5 
 Instant the glory that brightened lake Erie, 
 
 Burst on Champlain with the splendour of day. 
 
Patriotic. WOOD WORTH S. 
 
 Victories No. 7 and No. 11 combined Lakes Erie and Champlain. 
 
 Loud swells the cannon s roar 
 On Pittsburgh s bloody shore, 
 
 Britons retreat from the tempest of war; 
 Prevost deserts the field, 
 While the gallant ships yield 
 
 Victory ! Glory ! Columbians, huzza ! 
 
 Hail to the day which, recorded in story, 
 
 Lives the bright record of unfading fame ; 
 Long shall Columbians, inspired by its glory, 
 
 Hail its returning with joyous acclaim. 
 Victory scatter d profusely the laurel, 
 
 Over our heroes, on land and on flood ; 
 Britain, astonish d, relinquish d the quarrel, 
 Peace saw her olive arise from the blood. 
 Now cannons cease to roar, 
 Round Freedom s peaceful shore, 
 Silent and hush d is the war-bugle s voice ; 
 Let festive joys increase 
 In the sunshine of peace, 
 Peace gain d by victory ! Freemen, rejoice ! 
 
{42 1VOOD WORTH S; Naral and 
 
 Virtorj No. 8 Saratoga and Morgiana. 
 
 VICTORY No. 8. 
 SARATOGA AND MORGIANA, 
 
 Come, banish all your petty jars, 
 And shout your joy in loud huzzas, 
 In honour of Columbia s tars, 
 
 Whose valour ne er shall fail her; 
 Let echo answer to the strain, 
 And pass the tidings o er the main. 
 That British pride, 
 Which we deride, 
 Again is humbled on the tide, 
 
 By Freedom s gallant sailor. 
 
 nee Saratoga swell d the song, 
 As Britain will remember long, 
 Burgoyne, with seven thousand strong. 
 
 In fight could not avail her $ 
 ^ T ow Saratoga on the main, 
 Has shown that Britain s claim is vain. 
 To rule the sea, 
 By nature free 
 "Tis what shall never, never be, 
 
 Says every Yankee sailor. 
 
 This Saratoga, you shall hear, 
 Was fitted out a privateer, 
 
Patriotic. WOODWORTH S. 443 
 
 Victory No. 8 Saratoga and Morgiana. 
 
 And mann d by tars unknown to fear, 
 
 From danger never paler ; 
 To die or conquer, all agreed ; 
 To nobly die, 
 But never fly, 
 
 While George s cross was waving high, 
 Twas like a Yankee sailor. 
 
 They hoisted sail, and cruis d afar, 
 To aid their country in the war, 
 And many a valiant British tar 
 
 Has reason to bewail her ; 
 They fought and captured all they met ; 
 While Britons vainly fume and fret $ 
 Each gallant prize, 
 In safety lies, 
 While far to sea for more she flies, 
 
 To earich a Yankee sailor. 
 
 At length they spy a worthier mark^ 
 To try their little gallant barque 
 Behold, a ship of war ! and, hark I 
 
 They arrogantly hail her ! 
 The Saratoga quick replies, 
 In. language that astounds the skies ; 
 While Freedom s sons 
 Still serve tfceir 
 
144 WOODWORTH S. Naval, 
 
 Victory No. 8 Saratoga and Morgiana. 
 
 Till calPd " away," each boarder runs ? 
 And each, a Yankee sailor. 
 
 The foe has eighteen guns, or more, 
 
 The Saratoga only four : 
 
 Away ! my lads, and board once more, 
 
 And fiercer still assail her. 
 Huzza, huzza, boys ! See, she strikes ! 
 Now board your prize without your pikes,. 
 And succour those, 
 No longer foes, 
 Whose gen rous blood in duty flows, 
 
 And save a brother sailor. 
 
WOOD WORTH S. 
 
 New- Year Address to the Patrons of " The War. 
 
 NEW- YEAR ADDRESS, 
 
 Written for the Garner of a Weekly Paper entitled 
 THE WAR JANUARY 1, 1813. 
 
 Patrons ! scowling Winter wages 
 O er our realms his stormy war ; 
 
 Back d by Northern Powers, he rages. 
 Scattering tempests round his car. 
 
 j&one can stem his rude invasion, 
 
 All must to the Tyrant yield ; 
 Spring, alone, with soft persuasion, 
 
 Can compel him from the field. 
 
 Yet, amid the frowns of winter, 
 
 Beams one lucid ray of joy 
 While it animates your Printer, 
 
 Bid it cheer the Printer s Boy. 
 
 He ll not boast of rigid duty, 
 
 Nor complain his task is hard, 
 While the smile of Wealth and Beauty 
 
 All his services reward. 
 
 Tis the height of his ambition, 
 
 (Laudable in age or youth) 
 That he claims the great commission 
 
 Of a MESSENGER OP TRUTH* 
 13 
 
146 WOODWORTH S. Occasional. 
 
 New-Year Address to the Patrons of " The War." 
 
 .Free from useless party squabbles, 
 
 Is the humble sheet he brings, 
 Unadorird b}^ fiction s baubles, 
 
 Save when patriot Fancy sings. 
 
 CLIO, o er the press presiding, 
 
 From her minute-book selects, 
 Truth from falsehood still dividing^ 
 
 This she copies that rejects. 
 
 Thus prepares a faithful history, 
 Perfect in each line and page, 
 
 Unobscured by doubt or mystery, 
 To inform a future age. 
 
 - 
 
 Thus, exempt from faction s demon,, 
 
 He has yet another boast, 
 That he serves a race of Freemen, 
 
 With what Freemen value most. 
 
 Now accept his gratuiations, 
 
 That the New- Year s glad return. 
 
 Finds us still the first of nations, 
 Where the flame of freedom burns, 
 
 Health, the richest earthly blessing., 
 Wantons in the gelid gale ; 
 
 Plenty, every board is dressing j 
 Genius and the Arts prevail. 
 
Patriotic. WOOD WORTH S. 
 
 New- Year Address to the Patrons of " The War." 
 
 PEACE, alone, on ruffled pinion, 
 
 Flies from Freedom s injured realm ; 
 
 WAR extends his rough dominion, 
 Vengeance nodding on his helm. 
 
 Harshly sounds the trumpet s clamour, 
 While our warriors leap to arms ; 
 
 Beauty shrinks in fearful tremour, 
 Snatching graces from alarms. 
 
 Harsh to us the martial clarion 
 
 Who with Peace and Freedom blest, 
 
 Bade the desert, drear and barren, 
 Smile a garden in the West. 
 
 Harsh to us, whose fair pretensions 
 Ne er infringed a nation s right, 
 
 Who have tamely borne aggressions-, 
 Rather than engage in fight. 
 
 But at length, indignant Justice, 
 Bares her sabre s spotless blade. 
 
 Swears by Him in whom our trust is;, 
 Every wrong shall be repaid. 
 
 Now the horrid fray commences, 
 BELLA goads the steeds of war ? 
 
 Death on every side disperses, 
 Spreading ruin round her c^r. 
 
J48 WOOD WORTH S. OccasiooaL 
 
 ^ew-Year Address to the Patrons of "The War." 
 
 Hark ! the tempest louder rages ! 
 
 See ! the Savage joins the strife, 
 "With a hellish yell engages, 
 
 Arm d with hatchet, fire, and knife . 
 
 Age, nor sex, is now respected, 
 
 Infant, mother., hoary sire, 
 By the ruthless knife dissected. 
 
 Or in flaming cots, expire ! 
 
 Can the foeman, famed for honour, 
 
 Britain, famed for social arts, 
 Can she brook this stain upon her, 
 
 Deeds at which a freeman starts ! 
 
 Form with tigers an alliance ! 
 
 League with prowling beasts of prey J 
 Set religion at defiance ! 
 
 Fright humanity away ! 
 
 Oh ! a day of retribution, 
 
 Haughty Britain ! is at hand, 
 When the amplest restitution, 
 
 Freemen s thunder shall command, 
 
 Now, already, on that ocean 
 
 She would rule with walls of oak, 
 
 Where her murderers gain promotion. 
 She has groan d beneath our stroke.*. 
 
Patriotic. WOODWORTH S. 
 
 \ew-YVar Address to the Patrons of "The War. 
 
 There her haughty hopes are crumbled, 
 At our Eagle s flashing eye 
 
 George s cross is quickly humbled 
 Not a streamer floats on high. 
 
 How they start, aghast with wonder, 
 
 That a rival dare advance, 
 Tempting Britain s awful thunder, 
 
 Which so oft has crippled France. 
 
 But at length they have discovered 
 We can surer vengeance urge, 
 
 Till their ships with carnage covered, 
 Float in wrecks upon the surge. 
 
 HULL advanced illusion faded, 
 
 And the GUERRIERE, streaming blood. 
 
 Blushing for her flag degraded, 
 
 Shrunk beneath the crimson d flood. 
 
 JOXES, the next in naval story, 
 Eager in the brilliant course, 
 
 Pluck d a sprig from British glory 
 Conquered with inferior force. 
 
 Next, DECATUR how the muses 
 Love to dwell upon his name ! 
 
 Next, DECATUH nobly chooses 
 British arrogance to tame. 
 
150 WOOD WORTH S. Occasional 
 
 New- Year Address to the Patrons of "The War." 
 
 Once his- sabre s blade reflected 
 
 Lightnings from the Barbary shore .5, 
 
 More than once that blade directed 
 Freedom s fire against the Moor, 
 
 r 
 
 Now a nobler contest offers. 
 Brighter ardour fires his soul 
 
 He the dreadful meeting proffers. 
 Where the western billows roll.. 
 
 Short, but bloody, was the battle 
 Iron thunders shake the Main 
 
 Leaden hail-stones thickly rattle, 
 Dimpling all the watery plain. 
 
 Soon the crippled foe surrenders ; 
 
 Neptune sees the flag descend, 
 And 7 amaz d, his Trident tenders 
 
 To DECATUR, Freedom s friend.. 
 
 Now COLUMBIA S Eagle hovers 
 
 Where Britannia s streamers play d. 
 
 There the patriot eye discovers 
 British injuries repaid. 
 
 Entering now this great Emporium. 
 
 Grateful to our gladden d eyes, 
 See, the Jjritish MACEDONIAN 
 
 Enters here, DBCATUR S prize 
 
Patriotic. WOOD WORTH S. 
 
 New-Year Address to the 1 alrons of " The War." 
 
 PATRONS ! when the British Liorr 
 
 Prowl d the plains where Freedom smil d^ 
 
 Twas a giant, cased in iron, 
 Struggling with a little child. 
 
 Even then, the cause of truth, 
 
 Innocence, and right, were won 
 
 $ow, in all the pride of youth, 
 Shall we now the contest shun P 
 
 io ! the power of Britain ceases, 
 Base corruption blunts her sword^. 
 
 Daily Freedom s power increases, 
 Sailors rights shall be restored., 
 
 All the gloomy clouds that hover 
 O er the cheerless Western plaitt^ 
 
 Shall Atlantic billows cover, 
 Oeean wash out every stain., 
 
 Be our Navy once completed-, 
 
 Mann d by Freedom s gallant tars^ 
 
 Foes will find their hopes defeated, 
 And respect Columbia s stars. 
 
 PATRONS ! may each earthly blessing^ 
 Crown d with honourable Peace 
 
 Each enjoymeiit worth possessing, 
 Be your own till life shall 
 
152 WOOD WORTH S. Occasional; 
 
 A News-Carrier s New-Year Address, for 1816. 
 
 May no disappointing barrier 
 E er your honest hopes oppose, 
 
 So sincerely prays your Carrier, 
 Such the grateful wish he owes. 
 
 A NEWS-CARRIER S ADDRESS, 
 
 Presented to his Patrons on Neiv-Year morning, 1816. 
 
 Dear patrons ! last night, as the evening expired, 
 ONE-THOUSAND-EIGHT-HUNDRED-AND-FIFTEEN retired ; 
 A New Year succeeded, his banner unfurPd, 
 And day-light beheld him encircle the world. 
 
 Now, sanction d by custom, again we appear, 
 To wish our kind patrons a Happy New Year : 
 And beg that our numbers with patience be heard,, 
 A grateful effusion for favours conferred : 
 
 For, cheer d by your patronage, bounty and smiles^ 
 The vigilant Carrier is pleas d in his toils ; 
 And cannot refrain, on each new-coming year r 
 To whisper his wishes his thanks, in your ear. 
 
 It is usual, we know, for each New-Year** Address 
 That annually flows from a Newspaper press, 
 To furnish a record of incidents past, 
 And hail the new year with remarks on the last* 
 
Patriotic*. WOOD WORTH S. 
 
 A News-Carrier s New- Year Address, for 1816. 
 
 But custom can never bind people of sense, 
 So, for once, if you please, we ll with this one dispense 5 
 While we point you to prospects which open in view, 
 And just hint at the past in a couplet or two. 
 
 When last we addressed you, the clamour of arms 
 Still spread round our borders incessant alarms ; 
 While the rough eastern breeze daily blew to our coas% 
 Additional aid to the red-coated host, 
 
 But armies, nor navies, nor engines of fate, 
 Gould dampen our hopes, nor our courage abate 5 
 We rose as we felt every pressure increase, 
 Determined to conquer an hon rable peace. 
 
 The blood of our forefathers cried from their graves 
 * We died for your freedom Sons ! scorn to be slaves ! 
 * The blessings we gave you, resolve to maintain 
 w A RIGHT once relinquish d, you ll never regain^ 
 
 < What tho you contend for your dearly-bought rights, 
 " With tyrants and wretches whom carriage delights ; 
 i>; Whose haughty ambition lays claim to the sea, 
 "- And wars but with those who have souls to be free : 
 
 ^ What tho ? some disasters have darkened the scene y 
 
 " And demons of faction in council convene 5 
 
 u Who openly threaten your cause to oppose, 
 
 % Embarrass your rulers,, and side with your foes : 
 
154 WOOD WORTH S. Occasional, 
 
 A News-Carrier s New- Year Address, for 1816. 
 
 " Yet, who droops at misfortune desponds at defeat, 
 Ci Or shrinks at disaster, though seven times beat, 
 4 * Whose ardour can falter, whose purpose can pause.. 
 w Distrusts either Heaven, himself, or his cause. 
 
 " Your infantile NAVY, on ocean and lake, 
 " Has prompted your pa?ans of triumph to wake j 
 " And the halo of glory which circles each head, 
 M Shall yet to the brows of your army be spread* 
 
 " To the field, then, with ardour on Heaven rely y 
 " The tempest of war on invaders let fly ; 
 " The breasts of true freemen a rampart can form f 
 ^ That tyrants will find it destruction to storm." 
 
 We heard and the plough in the furrow was staid, 
 Each art was relinquish "d for musket and spade ; 
 The pipe of the swain in the valley was still, 
 While the bugle rung loud from each fortified hill. 
 
 The cause of humanity, freedom and truth, 
 Enkindled a flame in the breast of each youth, 
 Which, fann d by the air that our freemen respire., 
 Soon burst on the foe in a deluge of fire. 
 
 It kindles ! it spreads ! as approaches the storm 
 And pulses long fridd beat rapid and warm ; 
 The dim eye of age former lustre resumes, 
 And snow-circled temples bear helmet and plumes . 
 
Patriotic. WOODWORTH S. 
 
 A iNews-Carrier s New-Year Address, for 1816. 
 
 The ardour increases bright flashes the fire, 
 Our foes, in amazement, behold it aspire ; 
 View armies assemble, inspired by its glow, 
 And feel the just vengeance it prompts to bestow. 
 
 They felt it at Chippewa, Bridgewater, York, 
 And at Plattsburgh received Yankee pay for their work, 
 Where untutored freemen forc d veterans to yield, 
 Or shun their destruction by flying the field. 
 
 They felt it at Orleans, where Jacksoirs bright sword 
 Directed the deluge of death which we poured ; 
 The conquerors of France, by their rashness involved. 
 Saw the cataract burst, and their legions dissolved. 
 
 They felt it, whenever in contact we came, 
 With arms, ammunition, and numbers the same : 
 And never have freemen deserted the plain, 
 Till numbers have rendered their bravery vain, 
 
 They felt it and lo ! the delusion was gone, 
 Proud Britain relinquish d her Sine qua non ; 
 Acknowledged our prowess the contest gave o r er 9 
 And the olive was twined with the laurels we wore,- 
 
 The turbaivd Barbarians next we chastise, 
 Astounding their Dens and their Knights with surprise ^ 
 Dccatur, like Caesar, makes summary work ; 
 To a broadside or two strikes the turbulent Turk. 
 
WOODWORTH b. Occasion^ 
 
 A. News-Carrier s New-Year Address, for 1816. 
 
 In battle-array, then, our squadron appears, 
 Under valiant Decatur, in front of Algiers 5 
 Who dictates a peace on his own quarter-deck, 
 Where the Dey has to sign it, or forfeit his neck, 
 
 Now Commerce revives, and her hundred wheels rolL 
 Our canvas is spread from equator to pole 5 
 Antipodes gaze on our banner unfurPd, 
 For the course of our eagle shall girdle the world. 
 
 The genius of plenty her office resumes, 
 
 The treasures of India Arabia s perfumes, 
 
 With each gem and each fruit that the world can produw t . 
 
 Her horn pours around for our pleasure or use. 
 
 The boundaries of Neptune s tempestuous domain^ 
 Our spirit of enterprise shall not restrain; 
 Nor forests retard it, nor mountains affright, 
 For Hudson and Erie their \vaves shall unite, 
 
 The Arts shall increase and refinement extend, 
 New graces to beauty shall piety lend ; 
 The demon of selfishness shrink to his hole, 
 And the form of each action have USE for its soifL 
 
 Here Freedom shall flourish, a star in the west 5 
 The dove and the eagle together shall rest ; 
 Fair Science, delighted, her portals unfold, 
 And Genius soar upward on pinions of gold* 
 
 
WOODWORTH S. 
 
 157 
 
 A i\ft\vs-Carrier s New- Year Address, for 1816. 
 
 Though bloody AMBITION, with ENVY and HATE, 
 Have sunk hapless France to a vassalage state ; 
 The strand where she founderd our policy shuns, 
 While we take to our bosom her emigrant sons. 
 
 The names of our heroes, recorded by Fame, 
 Shall glow in her tablets in letters of flame ; 
 And patriots, and sages, and bards yet unborn, 
 With splendour as brilliant the page shall adorn. 
 
 Our glory a lustre untarnished displays, 
 Yet soon it may dazzle with still brighter rays ; 
 Virtue, talents, and firmness, combined, may appear., 
 New- York may yet furnish our state charioteer. 
 
 Dear Patrons, this honest effusion excuse, 
 You well may be weary, for so is our muse ; 
 Then accept our best wishes, believe them sincere, 
 And long may we greet you with " Happy New-Year. 
 
 14 
 
158 WOODWORTH S. Local and 
 
 A News-Carrier s Address, for January 1, 1811. 
 
 NEW- YEAR ADDRESS, 
 
 Written for the Carrier of the Columbian 1811. 
 
 Patrons, the moon, whose silver cresent dress d 
 At ten last night, the star-bespangled west, 
 Has fifteen times her orbit s path-way run, 
 And travelled with us once around the sun, 
 Since first your Carrier, ardent in the toil, 
 Became a satellite of favour s smile, 
 And, with your evening mental banquet graced, 
 Has faithful still his humble orbit traced. 
 Blest with your bounty ere he well begun, 
 His daily curcuit he has cheerful run ; 
 Nor changes now, but to renew the year, 
 And meet the sunshine of your favour here. 
 
 Patrons, fair Freedom saw her children blest 
 With virtue, peace, security and rest ; 
 Her foes reduced in numbers, means and power, 
 While notes of pleasure vocalized h^r bower, 
 From Plenty s horn rich fruits adorn d her plain, 
 Where Agriculture led her smiling train ; 
 The Arts, supported by Industry s hand, 
 Their various blessings scattered o er the land ; 
 And daring Commerce, mid her injuries bold, 
 Reclined on Luxury s lap, bedeck d with gold. 
 
Occasional. WOODWORTH S. 159 
 
 A News-Carrier s Address, for January 1, 1811. 
 
 She saw, and smiled. But though her foe, subdued, 
 In adamantine fetters pov/erless stood, 
 Yet, as he breathed his mad envenomed ire, 
 While his fierce eye-balls shot malignant fire, 
 An " unclean spirit" on the vapour rode, 
 (As Satan rose from hell s accurst abode) 
 Its form, disgusting to the loathing view, 
 The goddess saw, and Faction- s demon knew; 
 On his horn d head a horrid helm he wore, 
 With dragon-crest, and < Schism 7 stampt before, 
 Two writhing serpents his cadueceus twined, 
 With forked tongues, and scaly trails behind ; 
 His skinny pinions sable fibres framed, 
 And round his form a sulphurous vapour flamed. 
 
 The fiend advanced, conceal d from mortal view, 
 Though Freedom saw, and well his errand knew ; 
 Well knew his power, his will, and subtle wiles, 
 Might lure the unsuspecting to his toils; 
 And, with a sigh, beheld his venom d breath 
 Taint her pure air with pestilence and death ; 
 The baneful gas, unconsciously inspired, 
 Her sons with restless disaffection fired ; 
 While through their ranks the spreading mania run, 
 .The goddess wept, and thought her cause undone. 
 
 At this dread crisis, pitying Pallas came, 
 To save the mourner, and protect her fame ; 
 
160 WOOD WORTH S. Local and 
 
 A News-Carrier s Address, for January 1, 1811. 
 
 A burnish d mail and nodding plume she wore, 
 And " The Columbian" was the shield she bore ; 
 Form d, like the fabled vEgis, to oppose 
 And blunt the arrows of a host of foes. 
 Faction in vain opposed his threatening fate ; 
 The ransomed victims of the demon s hate, 
 Restored to reason, rallied round the shield, 
 And disaffection hastened from the field. 
 
 Patrons, excuse this allegoric strain, 
 Nor think your carrier arrogant or vain ; 
 Proud of his task, renewing with the year, 
 He knows the subject worthy of your ear ; 
 Else why encouraged by your liberal aid, 
 Or why the carrier by its patrons paid ? 
 The blooming plant your patronage sustains, 
 Must sure be worthy of his humble strains. 
 
 Since the " Columbian," by your favour reard. 
 In Freedom s cause her champion first appeared, 
 What various dainties have its columns graced, 
 In rich profusion for the board of taste ! 
 The hungry quidnunc, found the ready dish, 
 The politician, all his heart could wish ; 
 The moralist, supplied with counsel sage, ; 
 
 The scholar, treasures from the classic page : 
 
Occasional. WOOD WORTH S. 
 
 A News-Carrier s Address, for January 1, 1811. 
 
 Historians, faithful sketches of the times, 
 And Virtuosi, food from distant climes ; 
 Commerce and Arts obtain d a journal here, 
 To mark their progress through the prosperous year ; 
 And Agriculture saw her labours crown d, 
 Improved by hints which here a record found ; 
 Here Humours friends have seen the lash applied, 
 By Satire s hand, to folly, vice and pride ; 
 The Muses votaries, too, might here admire, 
 The tuneful warblings of a western lyre ; 
 And lovers read and bless the happy pair 
 In Hymen s list, and wish their signets there ; 
 While Fate s black catalogue this lesson taught, 
 That joy is transient human pleasure short. 
 
 Patrons, permit your carrier here to name 
 The worthiest champions which the cause can claim, 
 Whose fertile genius has enrich d our sheet, 
 In columns breathing patriotic heat ; 
 Whose fruitful talents you have most admired, 
 While with their glowing sentiments inspired. 
 First, manly Stark appeared upon the field 
 The teeming quill in Freedom s cause to wield ; 
 Whose patriot fervor swell d the breathing page, 
 Commanding plaudits from the listening age. 
 Next in the list, ingenious Rattle rose, 
 To scourge apostates, and their crimes expose 5 
 14* 
 
162 WOODWORTH S. Local and 
 
 A ]\ T ews-C<.t ric.i s Address, for January 1, 1811. 
 
 Whose humorous pen portrayed luxuriant thought. 
 Nor secure! to scan the moral which it taught. 
 Franklin attended in the veteran train, 
 His thoughts the abstract of a patriot s brain ; 
 And BunherhiU, whose fervid numbers swell d 
 As when his thunders Freedom s foes repell d : 
 While ever and anon, each pause between, 
 The gentle Laura breathed a strain serene. 
 Cato, again, the worth of freedom showed ; 
 Timolien s thoughts in easy periods flowed ; 
 And Juvenis with serious Mercer join d, 
 To paint the blackness of a traitor s mind. 
 Junius described corrupted Albion s state ; 
 Green bade us shun the Dane s unhappy fate j 
 While junior Adams, with a critic s lore, 
 To shreds a pompous declamation tore. 
 Norfolciencis, next enrich d the page, 
 With style unrivall d, erudite and sage ; 
 And, in the life of British Windham, taught 
 To hate the wretch whom regal gold had bought. 
 Humanitus, in gentle pity s cause, 
 Condemn d the errors of oppressive laws ; 
 And feeling Howard still the theme prolongs, 
 And ably paints the captive debtor s wrongs. 
 Gay Rigmarole, with humour, all his own, 
 With dexterous hand has satire s weapon thrown ; 
 
Occasional. WOOD WORTH S. 163 
 
 A News-Carrier s Ad .liess. for January 1, 1811. 
 
 And while with justice all admire his art, 
 
 Law-makers wince, and tingle with the smart. 
 
 Philanthrope, to start a livelier game, 
 
 At modern female-fashion took his aim ; 
 
 While hundreds round him from their ambush spring, 
 
 As folly flies, to shoot her on the wing. 
 
 Meantime a Hamlet and a Tliespis wage 
 
 Unequal war with a degenerate stage ; 
 
 Endeavouring still to call true merit forth, 
 
 And place the chaplet on the brow of worth. 
 
 To these be added, not the least in fame, 
 
 Columns of treasure which the muse might name, 
 
 Pregnant with genius, energy and truth, 
 
 Of age the wisdom, and the fire of youth : 
 
 The muse of Selim was not wooed in vain j 
 
 A lovely minstrel echoed back the strain, 
 
 Whose tuneful numbers melted on the ear. 
 
 And who, but wish d Zoraydcfs lyre to hear ? 
 
 " The Rallying Point" a fertile pen displayed, 
 
 With Wisdom s form in Humour s garb array 7 d, 
 
 And Hosack s garden oft has furnish d, too, 
 
 Some fragrant flowers of no inferior hue. 
 
 The Diarrhodon" you have heard expose 
 
 The latent beauties of a modern Rose, 
 
 And smiled to see the lively writer roast 
 
 The doughty champion of the Morning Post. 
 
WOOD WORTH S. Local and 
 
 A News-Carrier s Address, for . anuary I, 1811. 
 
 Through the Columbian you were first infornrd, 
 O er bleeding Spain, what martial myriads swarai d, 
 While Gallia s banner, bathed in human gore, 
 Floated unfurl d along the sanguine shore. 
 How Wellington his thunders hurl d on France, 
 Announcing still a retrograde advance ; 
 Till the poor Frenchmen, hemmM by foes and bog, 
 Starved in their ranks for want of soup and frog 5 
 How Bona changed the partner of his bed, 
 And with the sweetest flower of Austria wed ; 
 While his ex-empress, with submissive grace, 
 Retired to give the lovely stranger place. 
 How Francis Burdett braved despotic power, 
 While tyranny condemned him to the tower ; 
 How Cobbett s pen incensed the foes of truth, 
 Who fed the viper till they felt his tooth. 
 Indignant, here the tale you have perused 
 Of Freedom s flag a second time abused, 
 When the Moselle, beneath our eagle s eye, 
 Dared bid her thunders on the Vixen fly. 
 
 While the great combat of election reign d, 
 The right of suffrage here you saw maintained ; 
 Till heaven-born truth, which vice in vain assails, 
 Bid twice three thousand freemen turn the scales. 
 
 Through the Columbian, too, you might admire, 
 What literary minds to fame aspire. 
 
Occasional. WOODWORTH S. 165 
 
 A News-Carrier s Address, for January 1, 1811. 
 
 What fruits of genius spring from Freedom s soil, 
 And what rewards attend their ardent toil. 
 Nor is our state, upon the list of fame, 
 In literature the least or humblest v name. 
 Spaford pursues a bold and ardent course, 
 With pen and talents not suppass d by Morse ; 
 M Creery bids the harp of Erin breathe, 
 And round his temples binds the verdant wreath 5 
 And Woody with philosophic reasoning shows 
 From what mysterious cause the ocean flows. 
 Immortal Fraser s wondei -working quill 
 Can every breast with admiration fill ; 
 With laurels crown d, the sweet dramatic muse, 
 A second Shakspear in her T\tinshul views, 
 Whose lofty lyre, disdaining meaner notes, 
 Paints to the life a " Bard in petticoats." 
 Searson and Grotecloss, with magic lays, 
 To rapture s tone the cords of feeling raise ; 
 Fair Ripley too, at sinners shakes the head, 
 Seizes her pen, and writes the rascals dead. 
 
 Invention s progress, too, has here been traced, 
 And all improvements that our clime have graced. 
 Ingenius Hall, with true mechanic lore, 
 Has taught an augur without hands to bore j 
 While Morneveck the higher merit claims 
 To guard our roofs from desolating flames ; 
 
166 WOOD WORTH S. Local and 
 
 A News-Carrier s Address, for January 1, 1811. 
 
 Harlem disdain d the magnet s varying power. 
 And made the plane which marks the changing hour, 
 Its use supply while the inventive Day 
 Bestowed new powers on Winter s gliding sleigh. 
 But most might you admire the wonderous power. 
 That knits a pair of stockings in an hour ; 
 And shrewdly think, as you these wonders read, 
 That life will shortly no exertions need 
 That some invention, o er the whole to leap, 
 Will make us food, and feed us while we sleep. 
 
 Patrons, how anxious have you told the clock, 
 Waiting impatient for your carrier s knock ! 
 Eager to seize this " map of husy life," 
 " Its fluctuations, " 7 harmonies, and strife 5 
 To sit at ease, surveying, as it turns 
 Beneath your view, " the globe and its concerns ; ?J 
 Thus " through the loop-holes of retreat" to scan 
 The busy scene and all the works of man. 
 The well-known-welcome signal sounds at last, 
 ^ Now stir the fire and close the shutters fast, 
 Let down the curtains, wheel the sofa round," 
 The sheet is open, and the column found : 
 " The grand debate" now meets your eager eye, 
 " The popular harangue, the tart reply, 
 The logic, and the wisdom, and the wit," 
 The agile parry and the dexterous hit : 
 
Occasional. WOODWORTH S. 
 
 A News-Carrier s Address, to; JuiMinry I, 1811. 
 
 The pestilence, which human science mocks, 
 li Houses in ashes, and the fall of stocks. 
 Births, deaths and marriages, 77 marine events,, 
 Ships spoke, arrived, or just departing hence. 
 Soft eloquence here lubricates the page, 
 There " cataracts of declamation " rage ; 
 While columns more the ins and outs expose, 
 " With many descants on a nation s woes. 77 
 Nor stop you here, for next, before your eyes, 
 " Forests of strange but gay confusion 7 rise : 
 Rare sales at Auction Fashions just come o 7 er; 
 Comoglio s concert Waiters true lucky store; 
 Cooke s benefit foot, horse, or water race ; 
 Vr r arne 7 s Register Wet Nurses out of place ; 
 Diseases cured Houses to sell or let ; 
 " Whereas a libel"" Ran away in debt ;" 
 Museums, sermons, celebration feasts, 
 Phantasmagories, strange and monstrous beasts. 
 In short one line the catalogue completes 
 i Heaven earth and ocean, plundered of their sweets. 7 
 
 With all these various dainties here displayed 
 Have you been furnish d by your carriers aid; 
 Besides a numerous catalogue of tales, 
 Home-manufactured, or received by mails ; 
 Of shipwrecks, murders, hurricanes and rains, 
 Of mountain-torrents deluging our plains ; 
 
168 WOOD WORTH S. Local and 
 
 A News-Carrier s Address, for January 1, 1811. 
 
 Of men who brave eternity s dread brink, 
 And drinking die, and even when dying drink ; 
 And one, whom death had vanquished in the strife, 
 By drinking brandy soon restored to life ; 
 Of suicides, and accidents, and fires, 
 And all, in short, curiosity requires. 
 
 Since such your carrier s service, sure he may 
 His patrons greet without offence to-day ; 
 May wish them every happiness on earth, 
 Obtained by wealth, or merited by worth. 
 He will not boast of toils he may sustain, 
 Through heat and cold, in tempests, snows, or rain ; 
 He will not. plead his poverty, nor tell, 
 That, faithful to his trust, he served you" well ; 
 But, while the sycophantic suppliant starves, 
 He, independent as the press he serves, 
 To facts self-evident directs your view, 
 And modestly refers the rest to you. 
 
Occasional. WOODWORTH S. 
 
 Tlie First Lesson of Love a Bagatelle. 
 
 FIRST LESSON OF LOVE. 
 
 In vain I breathed the tender sigh 
 
 At lovely Mary s feet ; 
 My soul, which glisten d in my eye, 
 
 No kindred ray could meet. 
 With cold indifference she replied 
 
 <6 My heart you do not move j 
 " And I will never be a bride 
 
 Till I have learn d to love." 
 
 il O then, (I cried) my pupil be, 
 
 a Thy breast no longer steel 5 
 " Sure, I can teach, sweet girl, to thee, 
 
 " The lesson which I feel /" 
 t( No, Selim you have tried it long, 
 
 " And yet I don t improve ; 
 " Fm dull or you instruct me wrong 
 
 " I have not learn d to love." 
 
 I left her hopeless but at eve 
 
 We met, when she exclainvd 
 " Now, Selim noiv my heart receive, 
 
 " With love for you inflamed !" 
 Surprised, delighted, soon I guess d 
 
 What thus the fair could move 
 My hair had been by Huggins dress d, 
 
 She saw and learn d to love. 
 15 
 
170 WOODWORTH S. Local and 
 
 The Second Lesson of Love a Bagatelle. 
 
 SECOND LESSON OF LOVE. 
 
 OR THE 
 
 CHARM IRRESISTIBLE. 
 
 * No, friendship, dear Julia, is all I can proffer, 
 " My love is another s, who loves me in turn ; 
 
 " Accept my esteem it is all I can offer, 
 
 " The flame of affection for Mary must burn. 
 
 Ci Then cease, lovely girl, to exhibit those graces, 
 " Nor tempt me from constancy, honour and truth 5 
 
 " For I never will yield to love s hallowed embraces, 
 " Till the arms of my Mary receive her fond youth. 
 
 ( * I pity the sorrow that "waits tliee at parting, 
 
 " And which, for a season, may rob thee of rest ; 
 
 " But time will soon sooth the sad heart I leave smarting, 
 " And the sweet dove of peace shall revisit her nest. 
 
 " You tell me my glances have nourished your passion, 
 " And gilded with hope the sweet prospect of bliss 5 
 
 " Dear artless enchantress ! untutord by fashion ! 
 " Your beauty demanded a homage like this. 
 
 " Had I known you ere this constant heart was my Mary s 
 " It might have been Julia s, and both have been blest ; 
 
 " But now tis too late, for if ever it varies, 
 
 ^ May my image for ever be banish d her breast." 
 
Occasional. WOODWORTH S. 
 
 The Second Lesson of Love a Baatelle. 
 
 "Twas thus to fair Julia I modestly pleaded, 
 
 Nor dared meet the glance of her love-beaming eye ; 
 
 Pcrplex d by the subject, my tongue was impeded, 
 And I sat sunk in silence, till roused by her sigh. 
 
 Then our eyes met by instinct but, ah ! the transgression 
 My Mary for ever is doom d to deplore ! 
 
 For, Oh ! such a sweet and bewitching expression, 
 Ne er beam d from the face of a mortal before. 
 
 I flew to her arms, with this fond exclamation, 
 
 " Dear Julia ! I m thine ! and we never will part ! 
 
 But explain, my sweet angel ! this new fascination, 
 " Say, whence this new charm that has vanquished my 
 heart ? 
 
 She replied, with a smile that enraptured my bosom, 
 " The charms which you now irresistible own, 
 
 " Are the gift of DESBORUS, whose magic renews ? em, 
 " His art can create and preserve them alone. 7 
 
 Protect, then, this artist, ye beaux, ? tis your duty ; 
 
 Ye belles, let DESBORUS your patronage prove 5 
 "Tis his to new polish the armour of beauty, 
 
 The ringlets he weaves are the meshes of love. 
 
 
 
J72 WOODWORTH S. Local and 
 
 The Third Lesson of Love a Bagatelle. 
 
 THIRD LESSON OF LOVE ; 
 
 OR THE 
 WAY TO KEEP HIM. 
 
 Ye fair, who complain of neglect in your spouses^ 
 Arid mourn the extinction of love in their hearts^ 
 
 My recipe con tis the charm which arouses 
 
 The flame that may slumber, but seldom departs. 
 
 Eliza once shone the perfection of beauty, 
 The mirror of fashion, the phoenix of taste, 
 
 When Edwin, invited by love and by duty, 
 Pray d Hymen to favour an ardour so chaste, 
 
 He loved her but long ere he whisper d his passion, 
 
 Affection for him taught Eliza to sigh ; 
 And arm d with attractions by beauty and fashion, 
 
 Her conquest she read in the glance of his eye. 
 
 Their nuptials were sweeten d with love s purest rap 
 ture : 
 
 But exquisite pleasure the soonest expires ; 
 Eliza forgot twas a trifle to capture, 
 
 Compared with the art which retaining requires. 
 
Occasional. WOOD WORTH S. 173 
 
 The Third Lesson of Love a Bagatelle. 
 
 Secure of her prize, she neglected to cherish 
 
 The charms which subdued him, and gilded his chain ; 
 
 And carelessly suffered attractions to perish, 
 The guard and the glory of beauty s domain. 
 
 The moments devoted to love and caresses, 
 
 Were gradually shorten d for Edwin would roam ; 
 
 To his heart with less ardour her bosom he presses 
 His paradise seenrd any where but at home. 
 
 Astonished and grieved at this wane of attention, 
 With tears and intreaties she sought for the cause, 
 
 And task d, but in vain, her once ready invention, 
 To find out the reason, if any there was. 
 
 Till prompted by pride, to awaken his passion, 
 She studied her once-hoasted charms to improve, 
 
 Applied to Desborus, field-marshal of fashion, 
 And begg d a supply of the weapons of love. 
 
 With a bow full of grace, and a smile that is nature s^ 
 Desborus began all his genius to show, 
 
 When heart-slayers, beau-killers., annihilatorsf 
 
 Waved lightly around her smooth forehead of snow. 
 
 Different description of ringlets, so called. 
 15* 
 
174 WOOD WORTH S. Local and 
 
 The Third Lesson of Love a Bagatelle. 
 
 As clouds round the sun in bright glory descending, 
 Diffuse the rich radiance in rose-coloured streaks ; 
 
 So each curl (while her eyes their new lustre were 
 
 lending) 
 Reflected the blushes of light on her cheeks. 
 
 And her portals of breath, with their pearls studded 
 
 round, 
 Lately dim from neglect, now new polish d were 
 
 seen ; 
 
 And oft as they oped to her voice s sweet sound, 
 A thousand young cupids were peeping between. 
 
 Hymen s lamp was rekindled, her Edwin grew kind, 
 More constancy never was shown by the dove 5 
 
 At the conjugal chain he no longer repined, 
 
 Since HUGGINS entwined it with garlands of love. 
 
Occasional. WOODWORTH S. 
 
 Cupid s Lamentation a Bagatelle. 
 
 CUPID S LAMENTATION, 
 
 OR THE 
 
 PUFF ALLEGORICAL. 
 
 On the banks of the Hudson, enamell d with flowers, 
 Fair Venus reclined in a myrtle alcove 5 
 
 Her doves were unyoked, and the wild-woven bowers 
 Were vocal with strains to the goddess of love : 
 
 When soaring on high o er the city s gay throng, 
 Her son met her view, who approach d her retreat j 
 
 On gossamer pinion he floated along, 
 
 And alighted mid roses that bloom d at her feet. 
 
 <: O Cupid ! (she cried) what occasions this grief ? 
 
 " And where is thy quiver, thy bow, and thy darts ?" 
 u All gone, dear mama ! O a sad wicked thief 
 
 " Has ruin d thy son" sobb d the ruler of hearts. 
 
 u I left you, but lately, to sport in the town, 
 
 " Where, mother, you promised me plenty of game ,; 
 
 " But though many I started, not one I run down, 
 " And Hymen, for me, may extinguish his flame. 
 
 " I peep d in a shop, where a form met my view 
 66 Whose beauty surpassed that of mortals by far .5 
 
 So lovely, so fair, that I thought it was you, 
 ef And entered to kiss and salute my mama. 
 
176 WOODWORTH S. Local anil 
 
 Cupid s Lamentation a Bagatelle. 
 
 " But an impudent mortal, who played with her hair, 
 " Which wanton" d in ringlets on forehead of snow ; 
 
 " One lovely lock opened, and slyly hid there 
 " My ruby-tipp d arrows and dear little bow. 
 
 " In vain I implored he saw my tears flow, 
 " And tauntingly told me my prowess was o er, 
 
 " When who should appear, but a gay little beau, 
 " Whom often in vain I had shot at before. 
 
 * < The moment his eye met a glance of the fair, 
 " His bosom beat quickly with rapturous bound, 
 
 When one of my arrows flew swift from her hair, 
 " And entered that breast which I never could wound. 
 
 " Thus, thus, my dear mother, we both are undone, 
 i( For mortals no more will solicit our care , 
 
 " This thief gives each ringlet, the power of your son, 
 " And his art makes a Venus of each earthly fair." 
 
 " Where lives the usurper ?" with anger she cried, 
 " Who dares on a mortal my beauties display ?" 
 
 " In yonder great city" the urchin replied 
 
 " His name they call Huggins, he lives in Broadway." 
 
 
Occasional. WOOD WORTH S. 177 
 
 The Old Maid s Complaint a Bagatelle. 
 
 THE OLD MAID S COMPLAINT, 
 
 OR THE 
 PUFF POSITIVE. 
 
 IVe seen the blushing garden drest 
 
 In all the boasted pride of art ; 
 With nature s gayest beauties blest, 
 
 Combined to captivate the heart. 
 
 IVe seen the florist s skill employ d 
 The chosen favourite plants to rear. 
 
 Screen their sweet forms, when storms annoy d, 
 And guard them from each danger near. 
 
 And I have seen a lonely flower, 
 
 Neglected by the florist s care, 
 Exposed to all the blasting power 
 
 Of tempests, frosts, and wintry air. 
 
 Such is our lot condemn d to prove 
 
 The worst malignity of fate, 
 Estranged from the delights of love, 
 
 Exposed to ridicule and hate. 
 
178 WOOD WORTH S. Comic. 
 
 The Whiskers first published in the Complete Coiffeur. 
 
 But, ah ! in vain we still assign, 
 
 To Heaven or Fate, the cruel cause ; 
 
 It springs not from the will divine. 
 And chance denies it in her laws. 
 
 When first we bloom d, no magic art 
 
 The charms which nature gave improved : 
 
 But now Desborus can impart 
 
 Charms so bewitching, all are loved. 
 
 THE WHISKERS. 
 
 A TALE. 
 
 The kings, who rule mankind with haughty sway, 
 The prouder Pope whom even kings obey 
 Love, at whose shrine both popes and monarchs fall. 
 And e en self-interest, that controls them all 
 Possess a petty power, when all combined, 
 Compared with Fashion s influence on mankind ; 
 For Love itself will oft to Fashion bow, 
 The following story will comince you how: 
 
 A Petit Maitre wooed a fair, 
 Of virtue, wealth, and graces rare ; 
 But vainly had preferr d his claim, 
 The maiden own d no answering flame ; 
 
Comic. WOODWORTH S. 179 
 
 The V\hiskers a Tal< 
 
 At length, by doubt and anguish torn, 
 Suspense, too painful to be borne, 
 Low at her feet he humbly kneel d, 
 And thus his ardent flame reveafd : 
 
 " Pity my grief, angelic fair, 
 Behold my anguish and despair ; 
 For you this heart must ever burn 
 O bless me with a kind return ; 
 My love no language can express, 
 Reward it then with happiness ; 
 Nothing on earth but you I prize, 
 All else is trifling in my eyes j 
 And cheerfully would I resign 
 The wealth of worlds, to call you mine. 
 But, if another gain your hand, 
 Far distant from my native land, 
 Far hence, from you and hope, I ll fly, 
 And in some foreign region die." 
 
 The virgin heard, and thus replied : 
 * If my consent to be your bride, 
 Will make you happy, then be blest, 
 But grant me first one small request ; 
 A sacrifice I must demand, 
 And in return will give my hand." 
 
 " A sacrifice ! O speak its name, 
 For you Fd forfeit wealth and fame ; 
 
180 WOODWORTH S. Comic. 
 
 The Whiskers a Tale. 
 
 Take my whole fortune every cent" 
 
 " Twas something more than wealth I meant/ 
 
 " Must I the realms of Neptune trace ? 
 
 speak the word where er the place, 
 For you, the idol of my soul, 
 
 I d e ? en explore the frozen pole j 
 Arabia s sandy deserts tread, 
 Or trace the Tigris to its head." 
 
 " O no ; dear sir, I do not ask 
 So long a voyage, so hard a task 5 
 You must but ah ! the boon I want, 
 
 1 have no hope that you will grant." 
 
 " Shall I, like Bonaparte, aspire 
 To be the world s imperial sire ? 
 Express the wish, and here I vow, 
 To place a crown upon your brow." 
 
 " Sir, these are trifles" she replied- 
 " But if you wish me for your bride, 
 You must but still I fear to speak 
 You ll never grant the boon I seek." 
 
 " O say !" he cried " dear angeLsay 
 What I must do, and I obey ; 
 No longer rack me with suspense, 
 Speak your commands, and send me hence." 
 
Comic. WOOD WORTH S. 
 
 The Whiskers a Tale. 
 
 " Well, then, dear generous youth !" she cries. 
 If thus my heart you really prize, 
 And wish to link your fate with mine, 
 On one condition I am thine ; 
 "Twill then become my pleasing duty, 
 To contemplate a husband s beauty ; 
 And gazing on his manly face, 
 His feelings and his wishes trace ; 
 To banish thence each mark of care, 
 And light a smile of pleasure there. 
 O let me then, tis all I ask, 
 Commence at once the pleasing task ; 
 O let me, (as becomes my place) 
 Cut those huge whiskers from your face." 
 
 She said but O, what strange surprise 
 Was pictured in her lover s eyes ! 
 Like lightning from the ground he sprung, 
 While wild amazement tied his tongue ; 
 A statue, motionless, he gazed, 
 Astonish d, horror-struck, amazed. 
 So look d the gallant Perseus, when 
 Medusa s visage met his ken ; 
 So look d Macbeth, whose guilty eye 
 Discern d an " air-drawn dagger" nigh; 
 And so the prince of Denmark stared, 
 When first his father s ghost appeared. 
 16 
 
182 WOODWORTH S. Comic. 
 
 The Inexperienced Barber a Tale. 
 
 At length our hero silence broke, 
 And thus in wildest accents spoke : 
 "Cut off my whiskers ! O ye gods ! 
 I d sooner lose my ears, by odds ; 
 Madam, I d not be so disgraced, 
 So lost to fashion and to taste, 
 To win an empress to my arms, 
 Though blest with more than mortal charms. 
 My whiskers ! Zounds !" He said no more, 
 But quick retreated thro the door, 
 And sought a less obdurate fair, 
 To take the beau with all his hair. 
 
 THE INEXPERIENCED BARBER. 
 
 The other day, a certain beau, 
 
 Before he could a courting go, 
 
 Must needs be dress d ; so off he flew, 
 
 To the first shop that met his view 5 
 
 " Come, Barber, 7 he exclaims in haste, 
 
 " Display for once a little taste, 
 
 " Exert your powers, and don t be stupid, 
 
 " But make me pretty as a Cupid. 
 
 f Consult my visage now with care, 
 
 " And to my looks adapt my hair." 
 
Comic. 
 
 WOODWORTirS. 
 
 183 
 
 The Inexperienced Barber. 
 
 The man, a novice in his trade, 
 His best abilities displayed ; 
 And Cupid from his chair arose, 
 A finished beauty, we suppose ; 
 Approacb d the glass, his visage spied, 
 Then turning to the Barber, cried 
 a Is this your boasted taste ? for shame ! 
 " Such dressing don t deserve the name ; 
 " My head, with all these curls and plaster, 
 " Looks like the very devil., master." 
 The barber in a humble tone, 
 Replied, " Dear sir, the fault s your own, 
 " You bade me view your face with care, 
 " And to your looks adapt your hair." 
 
QUARTER-DAY, 
 
 OR THE 
 
 Horrors of the First of May, 
 A POEM. 
 
NOTE. 
 
 The following Poem is founded on a custom pecu 
 liar to the city of Nev-YorJe, where rents and leases 
 uniformly commence on the Jirst day of MAY. It 
 was the production of a few leisure evenings in the 
 spring of 1812, and dedicated (see line 42d) to the 
 honourable Dewitt Clinton* then Mayor of the city of 
 New-York. 
 
QUARTER-DAY, 
 
 A POEM. 
 
 W HILE sylvan bards awake the tuneful strain 
 Responsive to the murmur of some rill 
 Meandering slow along the rushy dale 5 
 Or, deep embosom M in the sweet recess 
 Of fragrant bower, by feathered choir made vocal, 5 
 Chant, to the flow r-deck d lyre, a hackney 7 d theme, 
 The sweets of MAY in vernal beauties dight ; 
 Mine be the task, in city garret pent, 
 Stunn d by the tuneless serenade of wheels, 
 O er pavements rolling, dissonant and harsh, 10 
 
 To sing of MAY arrayed in HORROR S garb 
 Terrific. MAY THE FIRST, call d QUARTER-DAY, 
 That period of suspense, of fear, despair, 
 And each ungracious feeling that annoys : 
 
138 WOODWORTH S. Descriptive. 
 
 Quarter-Day or the Horrors of the First of May. 
 
 That temporal day of judgment, when unhoused 15 
 
 And trembling mortals, at the awful bar 
 
 Of merciless landlords, render their accounts, 
 
 And lenity implore, too oft, in vain. 
 
 Come, Heaven-born Sympathy, still prompt to give 
 A tear to grief, or lend a smile to joy, 20 
 
 Be thou my muse ; inspire my feeble verse 
 In thy behalf; O teach the bard to fill 
 With glowing hues the outlines here portray d, 
 And give a faithful picture of the scene. 
 Hold thou the palet, Truth shall guide his hand, 25 
 To trace the horrors of that dreadful day, 
 When this proud city, with commotion filFd, 
 Presents a scene of tumult, noise, and strife, 
 With which compared, old Babel s lofty tower 
 Was Orders temple and the shrine of peace. SO 
 
 That day, to Poverty so full of wo, 
 And which the bard, her chosen son, despairs 
 To meet prepared, unless his song should win 
 The golden charm to strip it of its frowns. 
 
 Such be the untried theme, for whichj now 35 
 Loose from its .wooden peg my dusty harp, 
 By cobwebs long enshrined, disused, untuned ; 
 But if the jarring wire can yield a sound 
 That only tastes of melody^ O deign. 
 
DescriptU e. WOOD WORTH S. 1 89 
 
 Quarter-Day or the Horrors of the First of May. 
 
 Ye friends of song, to listen to my lay, 40 
 
 Which boasts, at least, virginity and truth. 
 
 And thou, in whom unrivall d talents draw 
 From virtue dignity ; whose private worth 
 And public fame have calPd thee, by the voice 
 Of patriot freemen, guardians of the state, 45 
 
 To fill the chair of Justice, and become 
 The watchful father of a city s weal 
 O listen to my humble song. The muse 
 Aspires to court thy patronage and favor ; 
 Not for the pride of birth, or vain parade 50 
 
 Of pompous heraldry, which FREEMEN leave 
 The boast of liveried slaves ; her reverence springs 
 From love of virtues which ennoble thee 
 Beyond an emperor s gift ; but more than all 
 For that unfeign d benevolence of heart 55 
 
 Which oft has screened from fell Oppression s power 
 The wretch unfortunate, by landlord stripp d 
 Of all the goods domestic wants require ; 
 That sympathy which dries the widow s tear, 
 Protects the orphan, and forever sheds 60 
 
 A cloudless lustre on the name of CLINTON. 
 
 * 
 
 While yet Aquarius, from his ponderous jar, 
 With liberal hand, on Winter s frosty shrine, 
 His gelid offering pours, libations rude 
 
190 WOOD WORTH S. Descriptive. 
 
 Quarter-Day or the Horrors of the First of May. 
 
 Of noxious vapours, sleet, and hail, and rain ; 65 
 
 While yet the town in desolation lies, 
 
 The streets delightless, save the tuneful hum 
 
 Of tinkling sleigh-bells ; and while yet the clock 
 
 Of annual tenure strikes three quarters past, 
 
 With " dreadful note of preparation," now, TO 
 
 E en now the scene commences. Prompt to call, 
 
 The landlord, with prelusive tale of loss 
 
 By fire, or worthless tenants, shows his bill, 
 
 Throwing a glance expressive round the room, 
 
 Which says, as plain as miser s eyes can speak, 75 
 
 " My money or your goods." This pittance paid, 
 
 If happily within the tenant s power, 
 
 This ghost appears no more till the great day 
 
 Which comes anon. Meantime the anxious search 
 
 For tenements begins ; for rents increase, 80 
 
 And half our population, or for that, 
 
 Or business, or for fashion, must remove, 
 
 And with bright May begin another year. 
 
 7 Tis the strange mania that disclaims a cure, 
 
 Though its impolicy great Franklin urged, 85 
 
 And sad experience demonstrate the fact. 
 
 Now on the posts and lintels of our doors 
 
 Appear the mystic scrolls, uncouthly traced, 
 
 Putting to blush orthography and sense ; 
 
 But plain enough to let the passer know 90 
 
 Their vast import " a house, or rooms to let." 
 
Descriptive. WOOD WORTH S. 
 
 Quarter-Day or the Horrors of the First of May. 
 
 At this inclement season, ye who share 
 A tenfold portion of terrestrial wealth, 
 Who boast the face and image of a God, 
 O strive in temper to be like him too, 93 
 
 And purchase stock in Heaven s eternal funds. 
 Cherish sweet pity in your manly breasts 
 For all Misfortune s hapless race, and be 
 The guardians, not the tyrants of the poor. 
 O I have seen such curs d oppressive acts, 100 
 
 Such merciless deeds of cruelty, enforced 
 By griping Landlords, despots of an hour,. 
 As would with blushes light a demon s cheek, 
 And to a seraph s call the pitying tear. 
 And all for what ? A drop of ocean lost ! 10> 
 
 The wretched pittance of a quarter s rent ! 
 (The pauper s shelter cannot cost him much) 
 A few poor pounds, which, added to the heap 
 Of yellow dirt the mole is Heaving up, 
 Were scarce perceived by poverty withheld, llO 
 Is crime enough to doom the shivering wretch 
 With wife and children (what augmented pangs !) 
 To brave, unhoused, the less remorseless storm ; 
 Or else, entomb d within a prison s walls, 
 Endure the anguish of a " living death !" 11 5 
 
 Inhuman tyrants ! Vassals of your lusts ! 
 Idolaters, who worship Aaron s calf! 
 Allow the sufferer time, and you may win 
 
192 WOODWORTH S. Descriptive. 
 
 Quarter-Day or the Horrors of the First of May. 
 
 The golden god without such sacrifice, 
 
 The immolation of your fellow-man ! 120 
 
 Give him, at least, the chance you would a deer, 
 
 A generous start, and when he stands at bay, 
 
 *Tis time enough to slip the dogs of death, 
 
 And glut your Nero-appetites with blood. 
 
 In ORMOND S garret, near proud Hudson s stream, 
 Resided once a fond contented pair : 126 
 
 The youthful EDWIN, just in wedlock join d 
 To the dear object of his boyish love, 
 The fair AMELIA. Though their humble hopes 
 Were bounded by necessity s demand, 130 
 
 They were but barely realized ; and Want 
 Would sometimes knock, but never dared intrude. 
 Yet still industry, by affection urged, 
 With frugal management, and sprightly health, 
 Secured them comfort ai*d domestic peace ; 135 
 
 Each homely meal receiving higher zest, 
 From being earn d before it was enjoy d. 
 One year roll d round, and in their favour left 
 A trifling balance, after all demands 
 Were satisfied with scrupulous exactness. 140 
 
 Sacred treasure ! for one fonfl event 
 Now hastening on, the consecrated boon 
 Was joyfully reserved ; while smiling hope 
 Lent double vigour to the daily task 
 
Descriptive-. WOOD WORTH S. 193 
 
 Quarter-Day or the Horrors of the First of May. 
 
 Which fed the pair, and saved the little fund. 145 
 But, ah ! relentless fate had woes in store 
 Unmerited by virtue such as theirs. 
 The tender moment, destined to complete 
 Their little plan of happiness, arrived ; 
 But only came to blast their fondest hopes. 150 
 
 The poor AMELIA, after nameless pangs, 
 That push d her to the precipice of fate, 
 And left her trembling on its dizzy verge, 
 Ushered to light, but not to life, a babe. 
 EDWIN, distracted, o er the sufferer hung, 15.~v 
 
 As though his loved AMELIA S wasting life 
 Was with the web of his existence wove. 
 \ight after night, and day succeeding day, 
 His eyes estranged from sleep, his frame from rest, 
 He watch d her fading form, and by her couch, l6() 
 Entranced in speechless agony, remained. 
 Doctors and nurses, nostrums, fuel, food, 
 And all the nameless calls of sickness, soon 
 Exhausted EDWIN S little frugal store, 
 And nought but want, disease, and deep despair, l6j> 
 Remain d the inmates of his drear abode. 
 The few utensils of domestic use 
 Their humble means afforded, one by one, 
 Had found their way to grace a broker s stall, 
 Till the poor couch on which AMELIA lay, l~0 
 
 (The scene of all his joys and all his woes) 
 17 
 
WOOD WORTH S. Descriptive. 
 
 Quarter-Day or the Horrors of the First of May. 
 
 Alone remained of EDWIN S worldly wealth. 
 
 Twas at this crisis, while the husband stood, 
 
 Absorb d in grief, beside the senseless fair, 
 
 His landlord entered. ORMOND, who could count 175 
 
 The annual tribute of an hundred rents ; 
 
 ORMOND, whose coffers groaivd with their contents, 
 
 Came to demand the recent quarter s due ! 
 
 The heart-broke mourner raised his humid eyes 
 
 And threw them round the desolated room, 180 
 
 Then pointing to the melancholy bed 
 
 Bade savage ORMOND view his little all. 
 
 * ; Ha ! swindling wretch ! (the human monster cried) 
 
 Your goods embezzled, and myself unpaid ! 
 
 Thus every year some cursed loss like this 185 
 
 Have I to meet : but you shall not escape." 
 
 " Forbear, (cries Edwin) and respect my grief! 
 
 This scene is sacred to despair and silence. 
 
 Let me but catch AMELIA S parting breath, 
 
 Close her dear eyes, and give a farewel kiss, 193 
 
 Then, wretch ! dispose of EDWIN as you please." 
 
 " What little your dishonesty has left, 
 
 ORMOND replies, this moment shall secure ; 
 
 Your bed is mine ! ?? A marshal, at his beck, 
 
 Entered the room, and both approach d the couch. 195 
 
 EDWIN, whose spirit sorrow had subdued, 
 
 Entreated, prayed, and on his knees implored. 
 
 A little respite but, alas ! in vain ! 
 
Descriptive. WOOD WORTH S. 195 
 
 Quarter-Day or the Horrors of the First of May. 
 
 With savage coolness, they commenced the task 
 AMELIA, writhing in the pangs of death, 
 They placed, ungently, on the cheerless floor, 
 Secured their prey, and saw the sufferer die ! 
 
 Nor ye, who startle at such fiend-like deeds, 
 With undissembled horror, think I paint 
 A fancy-piece ; for this was drawn from life 205 
 The wretch still lives to curse his fellow-men. 
 Nor vainly think such Nero-spirits few, 
 W r hile thousands pine beneath their despot sway. 
 Ask the poor widow whom a merciless wretch 
 Doom d to the horrors of a grated cell, 210 
 
 Her grief unheeded, and her infant train 
 Deprived the comfort of a mother s care. 
 A circling year has scarcely rolFd its round 
 Since BURGER S wrongs were made the public theme. 
 
 214th 1. Since Burger s irroiigs, &c. 
 
 This passage needs no comment save the insertion of the following 
 notice, copied from the Columbian of March 11, 1811. 
 
 To the Charitable and Philanthropic. 
 
 The assistance and charitable contributions of the humane and be 
 nevolent, are earnestly solicited to relieve the wants, alleviate the mis 
 eries, and soothe the anguish, of a poor and friendless widow, named 
 Burger ; who, with her three children, are now deprived of support, 
 and destitute of sustenance, by her being confined in the debtors i>ri r 
 son of Ibis city, for a paltry debt due for house rent, to a wealthy^ 
 
196 WOOD WORTH S. Descriptive. 
 
 Quarter-Day or the Horrors of the First of May. 
 
 And found, in public sympathy, redress. 215 
 
 Attend a sheriff s sale ; the savage rites 
 
 Qf Plutus 7 worship, on whose golden shrine 
 
 The little worldly comforts of the poor, 
 
 Without compunction, still are sacrificed, 
 
 .Fattening his priests at honesty s expense ! 220 
 
 See that fond mother striving to redeem 
 
 A little trinket, worth the world to her, 
 
 The death-bed token of a darling son. 
 
 But, ah ! she strives in vain for prayers and tears 
 
 Are all she has to give ; and what are these 225 
 
 To sordid souls who worship wealth alone ! 
 
 The hammer falls, and 7 tis for ever gone. 
 
 What, but this spirit, doom d the feeling HOWARD 
 For sixteen years to languish in a jail, 230 
 
 but cruel, rapacious, vindictive, inexorable and unfeeling landlord, 
 named , who brutally attempted to deprive her and her chil 
 dren of the shelter afforded of a desolate house during the late severe 
 snow-storm ; though the poor unhappy woman had previously paid 
 her rent punctually to him ; and though she offered to pay him a stat 
 ed si>m weekly out of the earnings of her manual labour until the 
 amount due should have been paid. 
 " Jl/an s inhumanity to man, makes countless thousands mourn. 11 
 
 230/& 1. For sixteen years to languish in a jail, &c. 
 The essays of Howard are well known. He reprobated the sys 
 tem of imprisonment for debt, and says that he was sixteen years a 
 prisoner for that crime in the jail of the city and county of New-York. 
 
Descriptive. WOODWORTH S. IQJ 
 
 Quarter-Day or the Horrors of the First of May. 
 
 Whose only crime, to give its blackest name, 
 
 Was that of being poor ! A sad offence ! 
 
 The judge who dooms a felon to his fate, 
 
 Softens his sentence with the tones of pity ; 
 
 And Justice, while she strikes the fated blow, 235 
 
 From her stern eye emits the truant tear ; 
 
 But the poor debtor hears not Pity s voice, 
 
 Beholds no falling sympathetic tear ! 
 
 His sentence is his adversary s will, 
 
 His jury, Malice, Hate, and black Revenge ; 240 
 
 And while these triumph o er the falling wretch, 
 
 Insulted Justice, blushing, drops her scales. 
 
 " It is (says he) a horrid place and many a time when, through the 
 grates of my prison window, I have watched the last rays ofj the sot- 
 tiag sun as they gilded some neighbouring spire, I have wondered that 
 any man could find it in his heart to put a fellow being in jail for debt." 
 " I have at last given up the hope of liberty blessed liberty ! I can 
 hardly write the word without dropping a tear at the recollection of 
 the joyous days of liberty which are gone forever. I am sad when I 
 think how they have fled away like a dream, and that neither I nor 
 my creditors can ever recal them. 
 
 " Habit has so altered me from the gay being that I was, that I 
 really suppose if I were offered my freedom to-day I could not enjoy it* 
 
 " As the hoary -headed tenant of the bastile, whose locks, like mine, 
 whitened in confinement for no crime, most probably I should say 
 " I have no money no friends my talents for business are lost I 
 have forgotten the ways of the world send me back to prison, for the 
 light is hateful." 
 
 IT* 
 
WOOD WORTH S. Descriptive, 
 
 Quarter-Day or the Horrors of the First of May. 
 
 Howard was blest with youth, and health, and all 
 That could impart a charm to human life ; 
 A faithful partner, and a smiling boy, 245 
 
 Between them shared a heart replete with love. 
 But, ah ! too generous for his humble means, 
 To save his friend, he lost, alas ! himself 5 
 And here, on Freedom s consecrated soil, 
 The exile s refuge and the wanderer s home, 250 
 
 Vias robb d at once of Freedom, home, and all, 
 And buried in the horrors of a jail ! 
 Struck to the soul, his wife, his dearer self, 
 Broken with grief, the victim of despair, 
 Languish d awhile and found relief in death. 255* 
 
 Her infant shortly shared her mother s fate, 
 Leaving the father, husband, whelm d in wo, 
 Alone and friendless, without even Hope 
 To dart a ray of comfort through his cell ; 
 Bereaved of freedom, consort, child, and friends, 260 
 
 245//1 I. A faitl tf ill partner and a smiling hoy. 
 " When I entered the walls of this terrible jail, in which, amid the 
 rattling of chains, I am now writing this little impertinent story of my- 
 jelf, I was younp:, in good health, blest with a wife whom I adored, 
 arid a? fine a boy as ever smiled in the face of a father. The boy is 
 dead and my wife is no more. She was indeed a mo?t excellent wo 
 man, but she was wounded to the soul by the horrors of our situation 
 her spirit was broken down, and she, with the infant that caused hen 
 Mchness, died in child-bed in jaii, shortly after irvy imprisonment, in 
 the year 1794," Howard. 
 
Descriptive. WOODWORTH S. 199 
 
 Quarter-Day or the Horrors of the First of May. 
 
 To gratify a miser s sordid spleen ! 
 
 The tardy years rolPd on their cheerless round, 
 
 Whitening a head by sorrows thus depressed, 
 
 And bending youth beneath decrepit age ; 
 
 Till the fourth part of life s allotted span 265 
 
 The suffering wretch in slavery had told ! 
 
 Twas this same fiend-like spirit, too, that sunk 
 Unhappy BROWN to an untimely grave ; 
 
 I. Unhappy Brown. &.c. 
 
 " Some years since, (says Howard) a joung man by the name of 
 Brown was cast into the prison of this city for debt. His manners 
 were very interesting. His fine dark eyes beamed so much intelli 
 gence, his lively countenance expressed so much ingenuousness, that 
 I was induced, contrary to my usual rule, to seek his acquaintance. 
 Companions in misery soon become attached to each other." 
 
 " Brown was informed that one of his creditors would not consent 
 to his discharge, that he had abused him very much, (as is usual in 
 such cases) and made a solemn oath before his God to keep him in 
 iail " till he rotted". . I watched Brown s countenance when he 
 received this information, and whether it was fancy or not, I cannot 
 say, but I thought I saw the cheering spirit of hope, in that moment, 
 desert him for ever." 
 
 " Nothing gave Brown pleasure, but the daily visits of his amiable 
 wife. By the help of a kind relation, she was able to give Brown, 
 sometimes, soup, wine, and fruit, and every day, whether clear or 
 stormy, she visited the prison to cheer the drooping spirits of her hus 
 band. She was uncommonly pretty. She seemed an angel, admin- 
 istering consolation to a man about to converse with angels. One 
 day, passed the hour of one o clock, and she came not. Brown was 
 
200 WOODWORTH S. Descriptive, 
 
 Quarter-Day or the Horrors of the First of May. 
 
 That drove the poor and persecuted SMITH 
 
 To desperation, guilt, and shame, and death ; 2fO 
 
 EntaiPd on Danvers undeserved wo, 
 
 And doom d his tender daughter to the flames. 
 
 uneasv. Two three, and four o clock passed, and she did not ap 
 pear. Brown was distracted. A messenger arrived. Mrs. Brown 
 was very dangerously ill, and supposed to be dying in a convulsive fit. 
 As soon as Brown received this information he darted to the door with 
 the rapidity of lightning. The inner door was open and the jailor, 
 who had just let some one in, was closing it as Brown passed violently 
 through it. The jailor knocked him down with a massy iron key 
 which he held in his hand, and Brown was carried lifeless and covered 
 with blood, to his cell." 
 
 " Mrs. Brown died and her husband was denied even the sad 
 privilege of closing her eyes. He lingered for some time, till at last, 
 he called me one day, and, gazing on me while a faint smile played 
 upon his lips he said, " he believed death was more kind than his 
 creditors" After a few convulsive struggles he expired !" 
 
 " Legislators and sages of America ! permit me to ask you how 
 much benefit has that creditor derived from the imprisonment and 
 consequent death of an amiable man, in the bloorn of youth who, 
 without this cruelty, might have flourished, even now, an ornament 
 and a glory to the nation ?" 
 
 289M I- That drove the poor and persecuted StnilJt. &.c. 
 
 " In the year 1303, the yellow fever raged in this city with relentless 
 fury. Every where the citizens fled from the destructive pestilence ; 
 the rich resorted to the seats of fashion and pleasure, the poor sought 
 refuge in those shelters provided in the suburbs of the city by the bene 
 volence of our active corporation. Humanity exerted herself in favour 
 of every class of the community except the debtors." 
 
 " Among the prisoners who endured the indescribable horrors of 
 
Descriptive. WOODWORTH S. 
 
 Quarter-Day or the Horrors of the First of May. 
 
 Unfeeling, cruel, and remorseless souls ! 
 Ye who on Sunday still profanely pray, 
 k< Forgive our debts, as we, O Lord, forgive 275 
 
 Our debtors" may the letter of your prayers 
 Remain unanswered for, tis death ye ask ! 
 And, Oh ! your souls are not prepared for that. 
 
 this season, there was one named Smith. His wife and two daughters 
 kept a boarding house in Water-street. They were too rich to be in 
 cluded in the class that was provided for by the corporation, and too 
 poor to support the expenses of an exile in the country. They were, 
 however, preparing to tax the friendship and charity of some of their 
 neighbours for a little loan of money to enable them to move with their 
 boarders to Greenwich, when Mr. Smith was arrested for a small debt, 
 and thrown into prison. 
 
 " This misfortune disconcerted their plan the neighbours fled, and 
 to increase the miseries of Mrs. Smith, the boarders, who had hitherto 
 contributed to her support, fled also ; and shortly after, herself and 
 both her daughters fell victims to the prevailing epidemic." 
 
 " And, will you believe it? reader ! no entreaty, no bribe, within 
 the father s power, could prevail on any one to go to his house to bring 
 him information of the state of his family." 
 
 " The first and last information this unfortunate father ever received 
 ef his family, was in the newspaper. They were buried in Potter s 
 Field." 
 
 "The father starved awhile in jail, till, at length, goaded by his 
 suffering, he forged a check on the Manhattan Bank, was transferred 
 to Bridewell, and from thence, after trial and conviction, was con 
 demned to the State Prison for seven years. Soured by misfortunes, 
 and rendered misanthropic by unmerited sufferings, he exulted in his 
 crime, and often was heard to advise people rather to be a criminal 
 ?han a debtor in this country, for that society here furnished the erf- 
 
202 WOODWORTITS. Descriptive. 
 
 Quarter-Day or the Horrors of the First of May. 
 
 When meek-eyed Pity moved the generous band 
 To range our city, searching for distress, 280 
 
 Bidding the widow s cheerless hearth to blaze, 
 And driving cold and hunger from her door, 
 How looked how felt these hard obdurate fiends ? 
 
 minal with the conveniences of life, while the debtor was suffered to 
 starve. He at length died, the enemy of society, cursing men ! And 
 this is one among the millions of instances in which slavery for debt 
 bas destroyed families, and ruined the morals of a man, who, under a 
 rational government, might have lived, the defender of liberty, and a 
 disciple of religion." 
 
 " Unfeeling, cruel, pitiless and remorseless creditors; and, legisla 
 tors of New- York, careless, heedless and criminal as they, whether ye 
 sleep or wake, may the spirits of injured Smith and his suffering family, 
 give ye no peace till your hearts shall be touched with pity, and your 
 eyes be opened to the folly of 3 our ways." 
 
 271s* 1. EntaiVd on Danvers undeserved woes, &c. 
 
 Danvers was a fellow-prisoner with Howard. His little daughter 
 was unfortunately burnt to death at home, while Mrs. Danvers was 
 visiting her husband in prison. 
 
 " As soon as Danvers came here, (says Howard) destitute and sad 
 as he was, he felt not for himself but, as to his beloved wife and two 
 charming children, the prospect was frightful. Thanks to the kind- 
 ness of a stranger, they were not permitted to starve." 
 
 " A bookseller in the neighbourhood of the prison humanely employ 
 ed Danvers and his wife in folding, cutting and stitching books ; and 
 what with a rigid economy, the slender earning of this labour, together 
 with the occasional aid of charity, Danvers and his wife were sometimes 
 in the midst of misfortunes blest with contentment. 
 
 " It was in one of those halcyon hours that Danvers and myself 
 were " making merry" over the last remains of a pitcher of ale, which 
 
Descriptive. WOODWORTH S. 203 
 
 Quarter-Day or the Horrors of the First of May. 
 
 Did not a fever glow upon their cheek, 
 
 When meddling Memory with these acts compared 285 
 
 Their blacker deeds of cruelty ? O, no ! 
 
 For devils seldom blush. Their feelings then 
 
 Resembled those of the infernal race, 
 
 When Heaven stoop d a sinking world to save. 
 
 be had purchased to aid us in celebrating the birth-day of his little 
 darling daughter Eliza. Mrs. Danvers, who had hired a small house 
 in the upper part of the city, had just left us, saying, as she departed, 
 that " she would go home and make little Eliza drink our health, for 
 the high honours paid her on her birth-day by the prisoners. * 
 
 "It was winter, and as Danvers, peeping through the grate of his 
 prison, saw his cheerful and amiable wife trudging through the snow, 
 to carry his blessing to the " darling Eliza" " Now, Howard," said 
 he, " by the goddess of mercy ! (and I think her the best goddess in 
 the catalogue) I feel at this moment that. I am gay in spite of oppres 
 sion. My wife there is an angel, and the daughter, whose fourth birth 
 day now makes me so happy, is worth more, in my estimation, than all 
 the wealth in the world. Dearly as I love my liberty," continued he, 
 " I would sooner remain a slave than part with that little darling of my 
 heart. Come, Howard ! here s to many happy returns of Eliza s 
 birth-dar." So saving, he took up the cup, and was just applying it 
 to his lips, when suddenly the door of his room fiew open, and in 
 rushed his eldest child, covered with snow, her hands and face purple 
 with cold, her eyes wild, and the tears frozen on her cheek. It was 
 some moments before her excessive grief would permit her to speak. 
 She asked for her mother who had just departed. " God forbid," 
 said Danvers, " that any misfortune should happen to your mother." 
 At length the girl was able to speak : " Eliza is burnt to death !" 
 
 " I will not undertake to describe, but leave the reader to imagine 
 the consternation of Danvers, when, those horrid words fell upon his 
 car" Eliza is burnt to death !" 
 
WOODWORTH S. i>cscjiptiv 
 
 Quarter-Day or the Horrors of the 1 irst of May. 
 
 But MAY approaches, rugged winter flies, 290 
 
 And Poverty can bask himself and smile. 
 Those who intend to take an active part 
 In this great drama, now are all prepared ; 
 Their various characters are duly cast, 
 
 " W ith tottering steps, he reached the outward gate of the prison, 
 and faintly asked the keeper of the jail to send some one to his house. 
 " What will you give me r" said he in a surly tone that struck to the 
 heart of Danvers. At that instant a messenger arrived with a note 
 from Mrs. Danvers. With a trembling hand Danvers opened the note 
 and read : 
 
 " My husband, come instantly Eliza is dying come instantly. * 
 The words were somewh.it defaced, and, evidently, by the mother s 
 tears. I looked at Danvers. With a faltering voice he begged the 
 iailor to go with him that he might see his dying Eliza. There was so 
 much of intreating wo in his countenance, that no human being could 
 have denied his request. The jailor positively refused. 
 
 * Feeling that the barbarity of the law absolutely took away from 
 him all hope of seeing his child again, Darners indulged in the frenzy 
 of grief, imprecated terrible curses on the heads of unfeeling creditors, 
 and in this delirium of agony was dragged to his room. The scene 
 was too affecting for me to endure it any longer, and I turned away 
 almost overcome by a reflection upon the indescribable horrors of this 
 miserable prison. 
 
 " The next morning I received from the afflicted Danvers the follow 
 ing note : 
 
 " Howard ! my child, my dear Eliza is dead. Her mother, since 
 I cannot go to my child, will bring her remains to me, I shall see her 
 body before she is entombed. Come to me at four we will all weep 
 over her ?" 
 
 " At the time proposed, I went to my friend s cell. His surviving: 
 child was already there. The roora would have been entirely dark 
 
Descriptive. WOODWORTH S. 
 
 Quarter-Day or the Horrors of the First of May. 
 
 By managers, to one or both of whom 29 ."> 
 
 All must submit Necessity and Whim* 
 
 ? Tis expectation all the curtain soon 
 
 Will rise upon a busy, noisy scene, 
 
 Such as, perhaps, old Goshen once displayed, 
 
 When Egypt s house of bondage Israel left,* 300 
 
 (Hard-hearted PHARAOH was their landlord then) 
 
 And every family, at once, removed. 
 
 but for a little lamp which stood near the window, " casting a dim 
 religious light" upon the iron grates on the outside. He rose as I 
 approached, and pressing my hand with fervour, pointed to a seat, 
 wished me well in a low voice, and resumed his former place. We 
 had not long been seated before the coffin was brought in, followed 
 by the mourning mother and her old servant maid, Lucy. The mo 
 ther and the daughter covered their faces, turned aside, and wept 
 aloud. The father knelt beside the bier, fixed his eyes silently upon 
 the child s face, contemplated it with great anxiety for some minutes, 
 then suddenly bursting into a flood of tears, made some low, faiterina", 
 but indistinct exclamations, and waved his haod to the attendant, who 
 caused the coffin to be taken away." 
 
 279</i /. When meek-eyed Pity moved the generous band, &c. 
 This alludes to a Society of gentlemen, (of whom the benevolent 
 TDewitt Clinton was one) called the " Good Samaritans ,-" formed 
 forlhe purpose of visiting the poor in this city during the ivell remem 
 bered hard winter, and distributing relief to all who stood in need of 
 it. In the most inclement weather they regularly took their charitable 
 circuit, and always returned loaded with the widow s benedictions and 
 the orphan s thanks. How god-like ! How worthy of imitation ! 
 18 
 
206 WOOD WORTH S. Descriptive. 
 
 Quarter-Day or the Horrors of the First of May. 
 
 But first, while yet the anxious tenant counts 
 His landlord s claim, at twelve to-morrow due ; 
 Or of his wealthier friends, a part from each, 
 Attempts to borrow, to secure his stuff; 
 The busy matron and her daughters ply, 
 With peevish fretfulness, their annual task. 
 Down come the bedsteads, tumbled in the yard, 
 Where hot ablutions drive their tenants out, 
 And take their lives for rent. The mirrors next, 
 And all the pictures, with their dusty frames, 
 Are loosened from the wall to grace the floor, 
 Now thickly strew d with broken glasses round, 
 Baskets of crockery, tables, stands, and chairs, 
 And all the nameless lumber conjured forth, 
 Of garret, cellar, pantry, and the rest. 
 
 The night in which pale APRIL yields to MAY, 
 How few enjoy repose ! The country lass, 
 Intent upon the morning walk, with him 
 Who holds her gentle heart, on various plans, 
 In hopeful cogitations, spends the night 
 What hat, or ribbon, will become her best, 
 What most will tend to make herself outvie 
 The blushing, fragrant month they rise to hail. 
 O, by my soul ! this MAYING has delights 
 Which I shall ne er forget, while memory holds 
 Her seat within my brain. In youth s fair dawn, 
 
Descriptive. WOODWORTH S. 
 
 Quarter-Day or the Horrors of the First of May. 
 
 I forward look d to this delightful hour 
 
 With feelings feelings none can paint ; for then, 330 
 
 Some gentle, artless, unaffected nymph, 
 
 Was sure to be the partner of my walk, 
 
 Accept my nosegays, (sweetened by her breath) 
 
 And, without chiding, let me steal a kiss 
 
 From lips more fragrant than the rose she held. 335 
 
 Season of love, and innocent delight, 
 Where NATURE reigns the mistress of the scene, 
 Farewell ! Imprisoned in the cell of ART, 
 Stifled with dust, and stunn d with ceaseless noise, 
 Through the rough grates I can but take a peep, 340 
 And sigh a sad adieu ! To-morrow s sun 
 Returns once more THE DAY but how returns ? 
 Not with the bliss that country swains enjoy 
 No tender thoughts will make me watch to-night, 
 And yet, alas ! I shall not taste of rest ! 345 
 
 My LANDLORD is the master of my fate ; 
 And who can tell if next meridian sun 
 Will not behold me dispossess d of all 
 The humble stock of worldly wealth I own ? 
 My wife and boy may that s digression though 350 
 Are there not thousands, too, who feel like me, 
 And tremble at the near approach of MAY ? 
 Not for their sins but for the power of those 
 Whom wealth and accident have made their lords. 
 
208 W OODWORTH S. Descriptive. 
 
 Quarter Day or the Horrors of the First of May. 
 
 Nor suffers MAN alone the humbler brute 355 
 
 Shares in " the horrors of thejirst of May:" 
 Where COMMERCE (now diseas d) once glow d in health, 
 Rattling o"er pavements with her hundred wheels, 
 Near the Tontine r tis dangerous to pass, 
 On any morning, save " the Jirst of May." S60 
 
 There, waiting for employ, a hardy train 
 Stand by their carts, which block the passage up, 
 Eager to start their lean uncurried beasts, 
 With any burden, for a trifling fee. 
 Not so to-day the piers and slips are clear d, 365 
 And every cartman busy : double fees, 
 Back d by entreaties, too, are sometimes vain ; 
 And, like knight-errants, you may be condemned 
 To watch, all night, your arms, and household stuff; 
 
 357th I. Where Commerce, now diseased, &c. 
 
 The embarrassments under which American commerce laboured, 
 for some time previous to the late war with Great Britain, are well 
 remembered. Publishers 1 Note. 
 
 368th I. And, like knight-errant, &c. 
 
 This line alludes to the ancient custom of watching armour in 
 church or chapel, which was a religious duty imposed upon knights, 
 in the age of chivalry, when they used to consume the whole night in 
 prayer to some saint whom they chose as their patron ; and this ex 
 ercise of devotion was performed on the night preceding the said 
 Sainfs Day. The same ceremony was observed by those who were 
 sentenced to the combat proof. 
 
Descriptive, WOOD WORTH S. 
 
 Quarter-Day or the Horrors of the First of May. 
 
 While some more lucky tenant holds the place 370 
 From which you vainly strove to be removed. 
 
 There is a sport, well known in country towns, 
 Yclep d " The Toilet ," which I ve often join d 
 At milk-maids parties where the humour lies 
 In having chairs enough for all but one, 37^> 
 
 Who takes the middle of the happy ring, 
 Unseated ; till, the signal given, all 
 Must change their places 5 who obtains no seat, 
 Incurs a forfeit, and the centre takes, 
 To give the signal for another change. 380 
 
 Such is the game our city represents 
 " Thejirst of May" for each must change his place, 
 Uncertain if he get a seat or no. 
 
 The curtain rises, and the play begins 
 Here at the corner, screened by oaken post, 385 
 
 The muse shall take her stand, and view the scene. 
 At every door, behold the ready cart 
 Receive its cumbrous load 5 the horse throws round 
 A glance of meek compassion, which to me 
 Speaks in a language, plain as brutes can speak, 390 
 " What a poor fool is man !" His driver swears, 
 Wives scold, dogs bark, cats mew, and children cry, 
 Pots break, chairs crack, pans ring, and jarring notes 
 Of harshest discord rise on every side. 
 18* 
 
2- 10 WOODWORTH S. Descriptive 
 
 Quarter-Day or the Horrors of the. First of May. 
 
 There goes a matron with her looking-glass, 395 
 A legacy from mother to her child 
 For several generations, and shell trust 
 None to remove it but her careful self. 
 But. better had she stow ? d it on the car 
 Where all her baggage rides ; for fate has doom d, 400 
 (By sudden contact with a porter s load) 
 To dash the sacred treasure from her hand 
 On the unchristian pavements, where she views 
 Her scattered hopes in rude disorder spread, 
 Reflecting houses, passengers, and skies. 405 
 
 Here a full barrow, piled with feather-beds, 
 Puslrd by a sturdy porter, runs you down, 
 Ere you can shun the danger ; yonder goes 
 The sweating bearer of a precious load, 
 Baskets of china-ware, and sweetmeat jars, 410 
 
 And the cold relics* of some late repast. 
 And here, a lumbering cart moves slowly on 
 Piled high with bureaus, bedsteads, tables, desks, 
 Chairs, cradle, rubbish, wash-tubs, kettles, pots, 
 Old empty barrels, benches, trammels, pans, 415 
 The fire utensils, carpet-rags, old books, 
 \nd musty pamphlets, oil jugs, bottles, frames, 
 Mats, brooms, Dutch-ovens, gridirons, griddles, jacks, 
 Trunks, piggins, toasters, pickle-pots, and all. 
 ? Tis bustle, tumult, noise, and sore dismay 420 
 
 Throughout the city ; sleepless was the night. 
 
Descriptive. WOODWORTH S. 211 
 
 Quarter-Day or tlv Honors ot the f irst of May. 
 
 And foodless is the day, for all must fast ! 
 
 On every face is seen an anxious gloom, 
 
 From him who owns a half a dozen blocks, 
 
 Down to the humblest tenant of the least; 425 
 
 And e en my favourite dog, with terror struck, 
 
 Gazes askance upon the troubled scene, 
 
 And sneaks to some lone corner for repose. 
 
 Who then is happy on the " First of May," 
 In this famed city? Not the purse-proud wretch 430 
 AVho trembles for his rents, and dooms the poor 
 To sink in deeper wants to feed his lusts : 
 Nor yet the poor, unless their virtues rise 
 Above the common grade; and least of all 
 The poor seduced, mistaken slaves of vice, 435 
 
 Who barter chastity and health for gold. 
 They, too, remove, to-day ; but tis to change 
 The scene of guilt and shame, be more oppress d 
 By their new tyrants, and perhaps condemn "d 
 To sin for wages which these tyrants share I 440 
 
 O may there soon a fabric rise for such, 
 A calm retreat from a censorious world, 
 Where sin s repenting daughters may retire, 
 And find forgiving rnercy ! Even now 
 A chosen few, of elevated souls, 445 
 
 Have plamvd the edifice, contrived the scheme, 
 And only wait assistance from ourselves. 
 
212 WOODWORTH S. Descriptive. 
 
 Quarter- Da}- or the Horrors of the First of May. 
 
 Success attend them, and in lasting fame, 
 The Magdalen, Society shall live. 
 
 Who then is happy ? Ere she close the strain, 
 The muse herself shall answer. 7 Tis the man 
 (Of easy fortune and a generous heart) 
 Whose charity by wisdom is directed, 
 Who loves his God, his neighbour, and himself, 
 In just descending order 5 whose employ 
 Is doing good to others ; whose reward, 
 The bright reflection of the joy he gives ; 
 Like a mild taper in a diamond lustre, 
 Which multiplies one little ray to thousands, 
 His means of blessing still increase by use. 
 Not all the Horrors of the first of May, 
 Can shake the solid peace of such a man. 
 The changing seasons, times, events, and all 
 The various scenes that chequer human life, 
 And e en the chilling adverse storms of fate, 
 Serve but to ripen the celestial fruits 
 His active love produces ; draughts of bliss 
 Pie quaffs for every little taste he gives, 
 And finds a heaven in wishing others there. 
 To seek for happiness in things of sense, 
 
 tve. 
 
 441M I. The Magdalen Society shall In 
 This Society was instituted about the period at which this Poem was 
 written, and has been attended with considerable success. 
 
Descriptive. WOOD WORTH S. 
 
 Quarter-Day or the Horrors of the First of May. 
 
 In wealth, ambition, pleasure, or supineness, 
 
 Is but a vain exertion idle hope ; 
 
 For then we chase a transitory cheat, 
 
 And leave the game, the real prize behind, 
 
 Hid in contentment s calm sequestered vale, 475 
 
 While we toil up the mountain s rugged side, 
 
 Tempting new dangers, and exposed to all 
 
 The storms that beat ambition s bleaker road ; 
 
 Or perils worse than these, conceaFd beneath 
 
 The treacherous sweets which bloom in pleasure s path, 
 
 A thousand serpent-stings, unseen, but fatal. 481 
 
 And if in dastard indolence we rest, 
 
 Our lazy hopes are certain of defeat. 
 
 Then learn the true, the only real source 
 
 Whence happiness can flow a precept drawn 485 
 
 From holy writ this heavenly source proclaims 
 
 ~ ; To fear the Lord, and his commands obey, 
 
 Is man s whole duty," in a single line ; 
 
 An easy yoke, a burthen light to bear. 
 
 ? Tis but to love in heart and action both 490 
 
 For fore is the fulfilling of the law. 
 
NEW-HAVEN 
 
 A POEM. 
 
NOTE. 
 
 The following Poem was written and published in 
 the year 1809, and every copy of a large edition dis 
 posed of. The author has since been frequently soli 
 cited to revise, improve, and republish it, but for some 
 reason not communicated, ahcays refused to comply. 
 On learning our determination, however, of adding it 
 to this collection, the author has interpolated a few 
 couplets, altered several defective lines, and subjoined 
 
 -some additional notes. 
 
 THE PUBLISHERS. 
 
NEW-HAVEN : 
 
 A POEM. 
 
 II EVV-HAVEN be my theme nor mean the name 
 
 On the bright tablet of Columbia s fame ; 
 
 For here did Freedom early cast the yoke, 
 
 And felFd the despot with the chains she broke; 
 
 Here Literature and Arts have since combined 5 
 
 To culture nature and enrich the mind ; 
 
 Here fair Religion meekly lifts her eye, 
 
 And gives her votaries realms beyond the sky ; 
 
 Here moral worth and " Steady Habits * reign, 
 
 While Vice and Folly seek a place in vain I 10 
 
 So boasts Report ; but, are her vauntings true r 1 
 Come, virgin Truth, the muse appeals to you ; 
 Bid Justice come, and trace with us the town, 
 Her balance bring, but throw her sabre down 5 
 19 
 
218 WOODWORTH S. Descriptive. 
 
 New-Haven. 
 
 One scale shall hold the praise to merit due, 15 
 
 And Satire s quiver keep the balance true ; 
 
 fe Laugh where we must be candid where we can," 
 
 Shall be the motto of our humble plan, 
 
 While varying objects teach the muse to steer, 
 
 " From grave to gay from lively to severe." 20 
 
 Tis worth and virtue not the man, we prize 
 
 r Tis vice and folly not the wretch, that dies. 
 
 Hail, happy city ! hail, thrice happy state ! 
 Connecticut ! supremely wise and great ! 
 Whose constitution cannot yet be broke, %5 
 
 Because you wear not such a cumbrous yoke ; 
 Whose laws were framed upon the Jewish mode, 
 Till you had time to form a better code ; 
 
 . Tis vice and folly, &c. 
 This idea is borrowed from a Cambridge Exercise. " Tis not the 
 fool, but folly is our mark." 
 
 Z6th I. Because you wear not such a cumbrous yoke. 
 It is a fact that the state of Connecticut has never yet been blessed 
 with a constitution, unless the royal charter of king Charles can be so 
 called. 
 
 28th I. Till you had time, &c. 
 
 The first settlers of Connecticut passed a resolution, in a general 
 cpnvention, that they would " be governed by the laws of God, until 
 they had time to make better ones." 
 
Descriptive. WOOD WORTH S. 219 
 
 New-Haven 
 
 To which the sky s cerulean tint was given, 
 A proof sufficient that they came from Heaven. 30 
 Hail, famed Connecticut ! where still we trace 
 The " steady habits" of your fathers race ; 
 
 29/7i I. To which the sky s cerulean tint, &c. 
 
 Man}- enquiries have been made respecting the signification of the 
 term " Blue Laws," which has been, for many rears, attached 1o the 
 political character of the State of Connecticut. The Pui-itans, (33 
 they were termed) who fled from religious persecutions in Europe, 
 after landing on this Continent, still rt-tained a portion of the " old 
 leaven," and proceeded immediately to pass laws as singular as they 
 were tyrannical, and as oppressive as they were superstitious. To this 
 dar have many of the progeny of the PitritunsJ in the Eastern States, 
 particularly in Connecticut, retained a portion of the follies of their 
 forefathers. For an example of the composition of what is now term 
 ed Blue Laws, the following collection of a few of the many curious 
 punishments, inflicted for various offences, is copied from the old court 
 records, between 1630 and 1650 : 
 
 " Sir Richard Saltonstall, fined four bushels of malt for his absence 
 from Court. 
 
 " Josias Plastove shall (for stealing four baskets of corn from t 
 Indians) return them eight baskets again, be fined 51. and hereafter to 
 be called by the name of Josias, and not J\f r. as formerly he used 
 to be. 
 
 " Joyce Bradwick shall give unto Alexander Becks, 20s. for promis 
 ing him marriage without her friends consent, and now refusing to 
 pei form the same. 
 
 " William James, for incontinency, knowing his wife before maj 1 - 
 riage, was sentenced to be set in the bilboes, and bound in 20?. 
 
 ce 
 
 : 
 
 fid 
 
220 WOOD WORTH S. Descriptive. 
 
 IVew-Haven. 
 
 Where liberal minds have happy sway attained, 
 By priests unshackled, as by crime unstained ! 
 Where genius meets a rich and sure reward, 35 
 
 Where speculation never meets with fraud ! 
 Where female virtue fears no hapless flaw, 
 For chastity is here secured by law ; 
 Where narrow Prejudice is hunted down, 
 And Superstition drove from every town ! 40 
 
 " Thomas Peter, for suspicion of slamlet , idleness and stubborness, 
 is to be severely whipt, and kept in hold. 
 
 " Richard Turner, for being notoriously drunk, was fined 21. 
 
 " John Haggs, forswearing God s foot, cursing his servant, and 
 wishing " a pox of God take you," was fined 51. 
 
 " Edward Palmer, for his extortion, taking 23s. "id. for the plank and 
 wood work of the stocks, is fined 51. and censured to be set an 
 hour in the stock?. 
 
 " John White is bound in 10/. to be of good behaviour, and not to 
 come into the company of his neighbour Thomas Bull s wife, alone. 
 Sarah Hales was censured for her miscarriage, to be carried to 
 gallows with a rope about her neck, and set upon the ladder, the 
 
 pe s end flung over the gallows, and after to be banished." 
 38 tfi I. For chastity, &c. 
 
 The. punishment for female indiscretion was formerly cruelly severe 
 in Connecticut. When an unfortunate fair one fell a victim to the 
 arts and inlrigaes of the unfeeling votaries of seduction, the fatal con 
 sequences of her error were not deemed a sufficient punishment ; a life 
 embittered with tears and regret, not an adequate atonement ! No. 
 To the loss of peace and reputation was added corporeal torture a 
 public scourging on a disgraceful scaffold ! To the honour of the 
 state, this law is now laid aside ; but I blush for my country while I 
 record its funner existence. 
 
 - r 
 
Descriptive. WOODWORTH S. 221 
 
 New-Haven. 
 
 Where Charity conceals each fault she can. 
 
 In servile beasts if not in lordly man ; 
 
 Where all so strictly do the laws maintain, 
 
 That litigation lifts its head in vain ; 
 
 Where all, in short, is bliss, unknown to vice, 45 
 
 Peace, virtue, innocence, and Paradise f 
 
 New-Haven, hail ! whose puritanic realm 
 No flood of heresy can ever whelm ; 
 Whose prisons, gibbet, pillory, or stocks, 
 (Those crucibles of tenets orthodox) 50 
 
 Have often taught the heretic to shun 
 The fatal course his ancestors had run. 
 
 In se?~vtle beasts, &c. 
 The ironical muse perhaps here has an allusion to the finesse often 
 practised by the dealers in horses, who generally find it politic to con 
 ceal the faults of the beasts which they wish to dispose of. 
 
 4-iih I That litigation, &c. 
 However strictly the laws are observed in Connecticut, but few 
 states in the Union support such a numerous clan of attorneys as " the 
 land of steady habi .s," who all grow rich by speculating on human 
 depravity. 
 
 515/7. Haw often taught the heretic, &r. 
 
 The general court of New-Haven, in 1658, passed a severe law 
 against the quakers, which was introduced with the following pre 
 amble : 
 
 Whereas there is a cursed sect of heretics, lately sprung up in the 
 world, commonly culled quakers, who take upon them, that .they are 
 19* 
 
222 WOODWORTH S. Descriptive- 
 
 New-Haven. 
 
 Hail, happy mistress of a happy state ! 
 
 With blessings chartered by auspicious Fate ; 
 
 For whom kind Nature, with a liberal hand, 55 
 
 From Copia s horn pours plenty o er the land. 
 
 immediately sent from God, and infallibly assisted by the spirit, who 
 yet speak and write blasphemous opinions, despise government, and 
 the order of God, in church and commonwealth, speaking evil of dig 
 nities, &.C. 
 
 Ordered, That whosoever shall bring, or cause to be brought, any 
 known quaker orquakers, into this colony, shall forfeit the sum of fifty 
 pounds. Also, if a quaker come into this jurisdiction on civil business, 
 the time of his stay shall be limited by the civil authority, and he shall 
 not use any means to corrupt or seduce others. On his first arrival, 
 lie shall appear before a magistrate, and from him receive license to 
 pass CHI his business, and (for the better prevention of hurt to the peo 
 ple) have one or more persons to attend upon him at his own charge, 
 &c. The punishments, in case of disobedience, were whipping, im 
 prisonment, labour, and a deprivation of all converse with any person. 
 For the second offence, the person was to be branded in the hand 
 with the letter H, to suffer imprisonment, and be put to labour. For 
 the third, to be branded in the other hand, imprisoned, &c. as before. 
 For the fourth, the offender was to have his tong-ue bored through with 
 a red hot iron, imprisoned, and kept to labour until sent away at his 
 -own charge. Any person who shall attempt to defend the sentiments 
 of the -q linkers, shall, for the third offence, be sentenced to banishment. 
 But these people, (continues the author from whose Geography the 
 above is quoted) who have been so much centered and ridiculed, had 
 perhaps as rnanv virtues as their posterity ; and it would be wise in 
 the moderns, who stand elevated on the shoulders of their ancestois, 
 ivith the book of their experience open before thtm, to improve from 
 their virtues ar.d to veil thtir faults. Stc J\Iursi?s Geography 
 Article Connecticut. 
 
Descriptive. WOOD WORTH S. 223 
 
 New- Haven. 
 
 Here rural charms with city beauties join, 
 
 Here art and nature every where combine ; 
 
 The colonnade, the portico, and tower, 
 
 Rise on the turf that bears a poplar bower ; 60 
 
 Beneath the shade here Genius loves to rove, 
 
 And think itself in Academus grove ; 
 
 Here thoughtful Silence holds her chosen seat, 
 
 For here no deafening pavements spoil the street ; 
 
 A chaise or chariot here are heard no more 65 
 
 Than feathers falling on the felted floor ; 
 
 Here I can write, three stories only high, 
 
 In such dead silence I could hear a sigh ; 
 
 No thundering carriage shakes the angled roof, 
 
 Nor steeds affright me with the clashing hoof; 70 
 
 No slippery flags the careless step betray, 
 
 And crack the skull on every rainy day ; 
 
 Here, should you fall, you lose no drop of blood, 
 
 But safe and soft recline on yielding mud J 
 
 Say, Heaven-born Truth ! say what police you prize, 
 Sordid and mean ? or liberal and wise? 76 
 
 What city e er in arts or splendour shone, 
 Where interest ruled where wealth was prized alone ? 
 
 64lh I. For here no deafening pavements, &c. 
 
 There is not a paved street in the whole city; and the soil being; 
 very sandy, the inhabitants are deluged with dust in dry weather, and 
 xyith mud at all other times. 
 
224 WOODWORTirS. Descriptive. 
 
 New-Haven. 
 
 Where self was all that influenced every thought, 
 And individual profit only sought ? 80 
 
 Truth answers, none and here one instance shows 
 Where liberal, public spirit never rose ; 
 The sad effects that on this languor wait 
 Disgrace the mistress of so fair a state. 
 No decent pier receives the freighted bark 85 
 
 A cluttered mud-bank (dangerous in the dark, 
 
 84th I. JVo decent pier, &c. 
 
 The first question asked a stranger who eaters New-Haven by land, 
 is " have you seen our Long-wharf?" and on being answered in the 
 negative, the vast politeness of " mine host" induces him to conduct 
 the gentleman all the way through Fleet- street, to visit this " stupen 
 dous fabric of human invention." If the weather has recently been 
 uncommonly fair, he may traverse it whole extent without sinking 
 deeper than to his ancles in mud. Should the path fortunately be un 
 obstructed by plaster, lumber, or carts, he may, as he leisurely pro 
 ceeds, enjoy a distant prospect of the water survey the gallant rnud- 
 scows and oj stcr- boats on his left, and a tottering row of old wooden 
 ware-houses on his right inhale the fragrant odours arising from the 
 docks, and, finally, arrive at the point which the New-York packets 
 are enabled to approach at high water. After feasting his senses 
 with all these beauties, the grateful stranger returns with his generous 
 guide, consoling himself with the pleasing reflection that the same 
 delightful .excursion will be repeated on his embarkation for Ntw- 
 York. 
 
 Additional Note. Since the establishment of the Steam-Boat, 
 between New-York and New-Haven, " things have been managed 
 better." Publishers- 
 
Descriptive. WOODWORTH S. 09;, 
 
 New-Haven. 
 
 Of length enormous, at whose timbered side 
 
 A pigmy fleet of oyster-boats may ride 
 
 Safe moord in mud) is all that bears the name, 
 
 Or to a pier or wharf can kindred claim. 90 
 
 Why does not wealth here hid Industry rise, 
 
 And from your sisters snatch, or share the prize ? 
 
 Give the clogg d channel all its former size, 
 
 And deepen docks by bidding piers arise ? 
 
 So shall fair Commerce o er your city smile, 95 
 
 And weaned passengers lose half their toil, 
 
 For 7 tis no easy task to walk a mile. 
 
 Why do I view these wooden frames arise ? 
 Does this bespeak your famed police too wise ? 
 Where er I turn a block of wood appears, 100 
 
 Seasoird in sun-beams for successive years ; 
 A fatal spark, on some disastrous nis;ht, 
 Might on the subject throw sufficient light ; 
 Then, like a rocket, you for once would soar, 
 Blaze for a moment, and be seen no more ! 105 
 
 But still the threatening danger you defy, 
 -Still bid new piles of cedar kiss the sky ! 
 By parsimony you would gain renown, 
 And risk a million to secure a crown ! 110 
 
 Ignoble maxim ! tear it from the heart, 
 And bid your soil to lasting structures stall ; 
 
226 WOODWORTH S. Descriptive. 
 
 New-Haven. 
 
 The well burnt clay, or yonder bluff, can yield 
 At once both grace and safety s surest shield : 
 Live not in terror while your interest claims 115 
 
 Far fairer fabrics, that defy the flames. 
 
 Yon spacious " Green," the city s boast and pride, 
 Might still have been a barren common wide, 
 Had not a spirit worthy of the man, 
 Conceived and urged to execute the plan, 120 
 
 To screen it from a hackney d long abuse, 
 And consecrate it to a nobler use. 
 But he s a lunatic ! then justly own 
 That madness here is liberal alone. 
 
 \\3th 1. The well burnt day, or yonder Uuff, &c. 
 A reference is here had to one of those two rocky mountains which 
 overlook the city from the north, called East and West Rocks, the 
 former in particular supplying very good stones for building. The 
 rugged brows of these wood-crowned heights are tinged with the 
 beams of the rising and setting sun, while (he city below is veiled in 
 the soft shade of twilight. A delightful prospect can be enjoyed from 
 their summits, of landscapes beautifully romantic. 
 
 117th 1. Yon spacious Green, &c. 
 
 This is the public square, situated nearly in the centre of the city, 
 termed The Green. 
 
 123d I. But he s a lunatic, &c. 
 
 The reverend gentleman who, at his own expense, began to orna 
 ment this handsome promenade with a fence, trees, &c. has, at various 
 times, evinced such a spirit for public improvement, as to draw on him 
 the imputation of being a madman, 
 
Descriptive. WOODWORTH S. 
 
 .New-Havt-n 
 
 But say, why is this beauteous promenade, 125 
 
 Where Nature glows in vernal vest array d, 
 
 Where Art with rapture would the scene have traced, 
 
 Deform ? d by buildings and by tombs defaced ? 
 
 Tis not too late to brush the moles away 
 
 From Beauty s face, and teach her smiles to play ; 
 
 For sacred ashes that have breathed and loved, 131. 
 
 May be with decent sanctity removed : 
 
 And where yon grove of youthful poplars bloom, 
 
 Transplanted monuments may mark their tomb. 
 
 When once adopted, habits seldom change, 135 
 However rude, displeasing, odd, or strange ; 
 Hence, when you hear the bell, or knocker s din, 
 No servant comes, some voice exclaims " walk in !" 
 Perhaps the visiter has only come 
 To leave a card, or ask if you re at home ; 140 
 
 To beg directions to another door, 
 Or just to tell, the chaise will call at four;" 
 No matter what, he may for ever stand 
 Beneath the porch, with knocker still in hand ; 
 Tis still " walk in i" from some interior room 145 
 Beyond a passage veiPd in deepest gloom 5 
 
 133(2 Z. Jlnd where yon g rove> &c. 
 
 The New Burying place, to which many removals have been made 
 from the Old, by such unprejudiced minds as think it not sacrilege to 
 remove human dust. 
 
228 WOODWORTH S. Descriptive. 
 
 New- Ha - i. 
 
 Here he must grope his " blind and erring way," 
 
 Fall o er a chair, or through the entry stray, 
 
 Till, sad mistake I he gains the cellar or-or, 
 
 And tumbles down a dozen feet or more. 150 
 
 A stranger, who arrives to tarry here, 
 Excites distrust, inquiry, hope, and fear ; 
 Slander awakes, and fame her trumpet plies, 
 Credulity extends her ears and eyes, 
 While swift around the secret whisper goes, 155 
 
 Till busy Rumour hatches " three black crows." 
 The strange proboscis, though of mammoth size, 
 Thro wondering Strasburg spread far less surprize. 
 His name, profession, stature, age, and hue, 
 The reasons why he bade his home adieu, 160 
 
 All pass a female court in critical review. 
 
 IZQth I. And tumbles headlong, &c. 
 
 An accident that actually happened to the unfortunate author, who 
 must consequently be supposed to write feelingly on the subject. 
 
 156th I. Three black crows, &c. 
 
 This story is humourously told by Dr. Srnollet, and ib too familiar 
 with every reader to need repeating here. 
 
 157th 1. The strange proboscis, &c. 
 
 Sterne tells us of a man who entered Strasburg with such an 
 enormous nose, that the whole town was thrown into confusion. 
 
Descriptive. WOODTVORTH S. 229 
 
 New-Haven. 
 
 Eliza sips her tea, then with a smile 
 Sweet as the damson which she tastes the while. 
 Informs the party, what they long to know, 
 The name, and so forth, of the stranger beau, 165 
 Whose novel manners gave so much delight 
 To all at Bloomfield s ball on Monday night. 
 O, cries Amelia, twas to Adelaide 
 u His whole attention and respects were paid., 
 She knew his name, and if the truth were known, 
 * I think, prefers it far above her own ; 1~1 
 
 What could he see in her, a very child ! 
 * Or she in him, to be so soon beguiled ?" 
 Jane eager answers, " I ll instruct you all 
 Their first acquaintance was not at the ball, 173 
 " But, as I live, on Sunday he was seen 
 Gallanting her to church across the (Jrcen j 
 
 lG2dl. Eliza sips her tea, &.c. 
 
 Should any individuals imagine themselves alluded to, or pointed at, 
 in this picture of New-Haven tea-table chit cba f , thev will surely have 
 the goodness not to blame the poet. For every person he profi Sses a 
 due respect, and for the fair sex, iti particular, he entertains a most 
 devout affection. But as he has, through mere, politeness, invited 
 Truth to accompany him on his present little excursion, (as he has 
 frequently offered a play-ticket where he expected its non-acceptance) 
 he cannot, without deviating- from etiquette, reject her Unfashionable 
 precepts. The unpopularity of this goddess in New-Haven, is mos>t 
 certainly no fault of his. V 
 
 20 
 
230 WOODWORTH S. Descriptive, 
 
 New-Haven. 
 
 " You ll laugh to think how odd the fop must look 
 
 ^ Bearing her parasol., her fan and book ! 
 
 " And bowing, as they parted at the door 180 
 
 " Now, did you ever hear the like before ?" 
 
 " O monstrous !" cries Amelia, " what disgrace ! 
 
 u How could the girl in meeting show her face ? 
 
 lii But after hearing love-tales, I suspect 
 
 " That S*****t s sermon had not much effect 185 
 
 " On simple Adelaide, whose Sunday s walk 
 
 < Will be the topic of the city talk. 
 
 " Her coxcomb, too ! what has his breeding been, 
 
 " To have such folly by the public seen ? 
 
 " And at the assembly did he think us brutes? 190 
 
 66 For, how ridiculous ! he danced in boots ! ! ! 
 
 u *Tis whisper d, too and I believe the tale, 
 
 " He left his native state to scape a jail ! 
 
 1. Thai $*****/ s sermon, &c. 
 The reverend M. S*****t, who like St. Paul, relinquished (he 
 study and practice of the law, to assist in the promulgation of the 
 gospel; but who has unfortunately smothered great wit, sagacity and 
 ability, in the melancholy consideration of the calvinistical dogmas of 
 election, atonement, and predestined damnation. 
 
 IQQlh 1. What 7ias his breeding been, &c, 
 
 Perhaps in no part of the civilized world is good breedings muck 
 talked of, and so little seen, as in New-Haven. But this fault, if it is 
 one, is more attributable to heads than to hearts. 
 
fteseriptire. WOODWORTH S. 231 
 
 New-Haven. 
 
 And keep the secret close upon my life, 
 
 ;< Tis known too well he left behind a wife !" 195 
 
 
 The scandal flies and ere the victim knows, 
 He finds himself encircled by his foes ; 
 The fiend in bulk increases as she flies, 
 And swells his crimes in multitude and size; 
 (< A base deserter from a dozen wives !" 200 
 
 And had his reputation twenty lives, 
 Beneath their venonrd shafts tis sure to die, 
 They pierce his bosom, and he wonders why ; 
 But, worst of all ! a luckless maid is doom d 
 To view, with his, her spotless fame entomb d. 205 
 
 Ye scritjhtlv fair I X^w-Haven ? * highest boast. 
 Abroad the wonder, and at home the toast, 
 "Denounce one fault, and lay resistless claim 
 To sweet perfection and eternal fame. 
 The soul-expressing, soul-inspiring eye, 216 
 
 The nectared lips that with the ruby vie ; 
 The witching smile that o er the visage plays, 
 And bids the fancy in delirium blaze; 
 The dulcet tone which rapt attention greets, 
 Breathed through a channel of unrivall d sweets; 215 
 The sprightly step, the graceful, modest mien, 
 Where all the charms that fascinate convene, 
 
232 WOODWORTITS. Descriptive. 
 
 New-Haven. 
 
 Are soon eclipsed^ when prejudice and pride, 
 
 With jealous envy, in the breast reside. 
 
 Then better prize your charms bid mental grace 220 
 
 Superior lustre lend the speaking face ; 
 
 Renounce vile Slander Charity pursue, 
 
 And angels may conceive of envy too. 
 
 Some such are here O how superiour they ! 
 As blaze of noon surpasses infant day. 225 
 
 Yes, the proud boast is yet, New-Haven, thine, 
 External grace with mental charms to join. 
 For while the grateful theme employs my muse, 
 A sister-goddess she delighted views, 
 Who pensive moves, with downcast eye, along, 230 
 A lovely contrast with the gayer throng ; 
 A temper, gentle as the glassy lake 
 When zephyrs scarce an undulation wake, 
 Shines sweetly through the azure of her eye, 
 Charms in a smile, or interests in a sigh. 235 
 
 How lovely, when a melting tale of wo 
 Heaves her fair breast in mounds of virgin snow, 
 Or from her eye the crystal tribute calls, 
 Which, lingering on the brink, reluctant falls, 
 And on that cheek where softest crimson glows, 240 
 Rests like a dew-drop on the blushing rose. 
 How soft her accents, gentle, winning, sweet; 
 Envy is silent and her snakes retreat : 
 
Descriptive. WOODWORTH S. 233 
 
 New-Haven. 
 
 The child of Nature, with unsullied heart, 
 
 Improved, refined, but not restraint, by art; 245 
 
 Its ebullitions know no false disguise, 
 
 They flow from truth and rapture as they rise. 
 
 Soul of my song ! my song should build thy fame, 
 Dared my fond muse but lisp thy dearer name ; 
 But ere her fingers kiss the trembling wire, 250 
 
 The " ghosts of former joys" untune her lyre ; 
 The sighs of Sorrow murmur as she sings, 
 And Memory breathes discordance o^er the strings. 
 Too delicate the theme. My muse, forbear 
 Divert sad Memory with a livelier air; 255 
 
 More subjects yet remain for blame or praise, 
 New-Haven yet demands the poet s lays* 
 
 Your Fasts and Sabbaths undisputed claim 
 The meed of reverence and religious fame ; 
 Of these the muse with due respect would sing, 260 
 Nor let one wanton note disgrace a string ; 
 Then may not Malice construe wrong the strain, 
 Nor dare reproach her with intents profane. 
 The streets deserted, silence reigns around, 
 Uninterrupted by the smallest sound ; 26. 
 
 Till tlie loud signal from the " Old Brick" tower, 
 Given by Glaus, proclaims the solemn Lour: 
 20* 
 
234 WOODWORTH S. Descriptive. 
 
 New-Haven. 
 
 In quick response two other fanes begin, 
 
 With " brazen throat and iron tongue," the din ; 
 
 In measured time the tones salute the ear, 270 
 
 (For e en bell-ringing goes by method here) 
 
 The Brick, and Blue, and Church, the chorus swell, 
 
 While raptured Echo answers, li ding I dong ! bell !" 
 
 Still not a passing foot-fall can we hear, 
 
 Not e en a mouse dare in the street appear, 27^ 
 
 Till, at the second peal, from every door, 
 
 As from the Trojan horse, the legions pour, 
 
 Marshalled, and clad in Sunday s gay attire, 
 
 From span-high infants to the hoay sire ; 
 
 New-Haven grace and beauty now are seen, 280 
 
 With pensive, measured step, and solemn mien, 
 
 Led by their mothers o er the dewy Green. 
 
 Beauty, secluded from the vulgar gaze 
 
 For six long, tedious, and unhallowed days, 
 
 Conspires to raise and solemnize the scene; 285 
 
 For " angels visits, short and far between," 
 
 Must sure impress the soul with thoughts divine, 
 
 While adoration bows before the shrine. 
 
 But, on this day, no anxious lover dare 
 
 Confess his flame, or e en salute the fair ; 290 
 
 289/A 1. But, on this day, no anxious lover, &c, 
 The " blue -laws" of Connecticut (so called from the colour of the 
 yaper on which they were printed) have never been repealed, though 
 
Descriptive. WOOD WORTH S. 23.5 
 
 New- Haven. 
 
 But, bliss supreme ! he treads where she has trod. 
 
 And meekly follows to the house of God. 
 
 All enter there the streets again are clear, 
 
 Deserted dwellings show an aspect drear, 
 
 And any honest stranger would engage 295 
 
 "Twas owing to the yellow-fever s rage. 
 
 And is there now one being not at prayer, 
 Besides myself ? I thought each soul was there ; 
 But yonder walks a man, with club in paw, 
 Who seems to bid defiance to the law 5 30 
 
 Onward he moves with majesty of pace, 
 Walks thro each street, and searches every place. 
 What would he do ? Ah J by his looks, I fear 
 He ll rob a dwelling while the coast is clear. 
 
 they are not, at this day, strictly observed. While this ridiculous 
 code was considered in full force, it was almost sacrilege to betray any 
 marks of tenderness or affection between the sexes on the Sabbath. A 
 gentleman happened to return from a long absence at sea on Sunday, 
 and so unexpected!}, that he first met his family on their way to 
 church. Overjoyed at the happy meeting, he imprudently embraced 
 his wife on the spot, and imprinted on her lips a kiss of connubial 
 affection. Good Heaven What consternation filled the breasts of the 
 gaping multitude at seeing this unprecedented enormity- . The ladies- 
 modest things ! how they blushed ! and the gentlemen how they 
 stared ! Every eye was at once directed to the proper authority, and, 
 in mute eloquence, implored redress. Suffice it, that so flagrant a 
 violation of the law was quickly punished by the vigilant police, and 
 the hapless husband condemned to pay a heavy fine. 
 
236 WOODWORTH S. Descriptive. 
 
 New-Haven. 
 
 But see ! he stops- and gazes with surprise, 305 
 
 While pleasure sparkles in his eager eyes ! 
 
 O tell me, Truth, what this strange man delights. 
 
 Is he an author ? for, behold ! he writes ; 
 
 Some brilliant thought he wishes to retain, 
 
 Just popp d by accident within his brain. 310 
 
 " No, Truth replies, his task is thus to stray, 
 
 With book and pencil, on each holy day, 
 
 To see if any (but himself) shall dare 
 
 Evade the law, and walk in time of prayer ; 
 
 Their names he notes with secret heart-felt joy, 31 J 
 
 For rich reward awaits his curst employ 5 
 
 The hapless wights the enormous fine must pay, 
 
 To appease the law and mend the broken day 5 
 
 The pious Doctor then absolves the sin, 
 
 Tips half the fee the rest attorneys win. 7 320 
 
 Justice, indignant, hears the shameful tale, 
 
 Sighs for her sword, and points to Satire s scale. 
 
 The mail arrived last night but, here must stay, 
 Nor can proceed another step to-day 5 
 No stage-coach wheels must dare profane the roads 325 
 On Sabbath day, with their ungodly loads. 
 The anxious travellers must tarry too. 
 Though dying friends may bid the world adieu ; 
 Business of moment may their presence claim., 
 Sickness and death, or love s impatient flame ; 330 
 
Descriptive. WOODWORTH S. 237 
 
 New-Haven. 
 
 -Tis all the same the law demands their stay, 
 Wherever be their hearts, their lips must pray. 
 Despatches, too, of highest moment, wait, 
 While merchants suffer in the neighbouring state; 
 Gazettes, that tell the rise and fall of stocks, 335 
 Rich-freighted vessels stranded on the rocks, 
 Or safe arrived, when fear pronounced them lost, 
 To save a ten-fold premium s serious cost, 
 Which Monday s sun will see despairing paid, 
 Occasioned all because the mail is staid. 340 
 
 And are these regulations made to prove 
 How dearly yon Religion s precepts love ? 
 Are there no selfish views no interest here 
 Conceal d beneath her mantle ? Yes, I fear 
 Throughout the whole, when all this fuss is done, 345 
 Like Others, you " take care of number one ;" 
 For you are gamers, though the world may lose 
 Have one whole day s advantage of the news, 
 And speculation being still your trade, 
 How many pious fortunes thus are made ! 350 
 
 Inn-keepers, too, by this, increase their pelf, 
 Each traveller must eat, or starve himself. 
 
 But now, o er western hills, the god of day 
 Salutes the city with his parting ray : 
 
238 WOOD WORTH S. Descnptn*. 
 
 iNew-Haven. 
 
 Tired of his journey, he retires to bed, 35-5 
 
 But scarce the watery couch receives his head, 
 
 Ere suddenly, as if enchantment wrought, 
 
 The scene is changed as quick as human thought ; 
 
 Bustle and noise, labour and sports begin, 
 
 And Silence startles at the direful din. 366 
 
 Enough of satire. There are many here 
 Whom I must ever love, respect, revere ; 
 And actions, too, that merit lasting praise, 
 Beyond the efforts of my humble la} r s. 
 Yon fair enclosure, where untroubled sleep 365 
 
 Hearts that have bled, and optics wont to weep, 
 
 359//1 /. Hustle and noise, labour and sports begin, &c. 
 In Connecticut, with the I resbj terians, Sunday commences at the 
 setting of the sun ou Saturday evening, after which moment, labour 
 ana sports are suspended till the same p^nou on Sunday, wlieu uisy 
 are renewed with increue^d ardour. This custom has, however, 
 varied a little in New-Haven since the laying of the embargo; as this 
 evil was thought to be a judgment of Heaven, they have adopted the 
 plan of attending divine worship on .Sunday evening, thereby hoping 
 to avert such a curse jn future. 
 
 365th I. Yon fan- enclosure, &c. 
 
 This beautiful spot deserves a particular description; and travellers 
 who may pass through this city are invited to visit it, with the assurance 
 that they will never regret an hour so employed. The New Burying- 
 place is situated at the northern extremity of the city, just far enough 
 removed from its noise and bustle, for retirement and calm reflection. 
 
descriptive. WOODWORTH S. 239 
 
 New-Haven. 
 
 Invites my footsteps thither let me rove, 
 Where sculptured stones adorn the poplar grove ; 
 Where graves, and urns, and epitaphs appear. 
 And ask the little tribute of a tear. 370 
 
 Come, gentle muse ! awhile consent to stray 
 Beneath this doom for at the close of day, 
 With downcast eye and interesting tear, 
 Sweet, pensive Melancholy wanders here. 
 O how I love to see a due regard 375 
 
 Paid to the dead, as in this hallowed yard ! 
 Wliere decent order over all presides, 
 And the rich sculptured stone the mourner guides. 
 
 It is perfectly le. el, cai peited with the richest \erdurc, and is divided 
 into lots, of suitable dimensions lor large families, by a slight railing-. 
 At the head and foot of each lot grows a tall and flourishing poplar ; 
 so that the whole has the appearance of a beautiful shady c rove, with 
 spacious alleys, intersecting each other at right angles, happily calcu 
 lated for ambulatory recreation. Every lot is distinguished by the 
 name of its proprieto" painted on the railing that marks its boundaries, 
 and the progress of the art of sculpture shines conspicuous in the ele 
 gant marble monuments that adorn it. The stones, tables, and urns, 
 are all white, and in a moon-li*;ht evening produce a very interesting 
 eflect. The lengthened shades of the poplars, the chequered gloom, 
 the aspiring monuments, the waving grass, and the. sighing breeze, all 
 conspire to fill the mind with sensations of awe mingled with an inde 
 scribable pleasure. 
 
240 WOOD WORTH S. Descriptive. 
 
 New-Haven. 
 
 Hillhouse ! twas thine to give the dead a place 
 Adorn d by art and nature s every grace ; 380 
 
 To call their ashes from chaotic heaps, 
 And fashion order where the victim sleeps ; 
 For this alone (if this were all thy fame) 
 Shall grateful honours gild thy lasting name. 
 
 Here while I stray beneath this poplar gloom, 385 
 Friendship demands a tear for yonder tomb; 
 Where, freed from all the cares that life attend, 
 Reclines fair Virtue s and the Muses friend. 
 When first these grateful scenes allured mine eyes, 
 He taught me where to rove, and what to prize 5 390 
 When pensive Vesper led the starry train, 
 And Cynthia s splendours mark d the eastern main, 
 Here would we ramble, while the sighing breeze 
 Waved the tall verdure and disturb d the trees ; 
 Weave in our converse threads of moral thought, 395 
 And scan the truths surrounding emblems taught ; 
 
 370//t I. Hill/iousc, &.:. 
 
 The Hon. James Hillhouse, Esq. who appropriated this spot for in 
 terring the dead. 
 
 3G8//1 1. Reclines fair Virlvtfs andtlie Muses friend. 
 Francia Kidder, printer, who died in the autumn of 1G07. His 
 typographical brethren, as a testimony of their affection and respect, 
 erected a handsome stone to his memory, the first one in this place 
 lettered in gilt ; it has since, however, been copied by many others. 
 
Descriptive. WOOD WORTH S. 24 
 
 New- Haven. 
 
 Then with warm ardour dart our rapid view 
 
 Through present clouds to scenes of brighter hue ; 
 
 Anticipated joys we hoped to share, 
 
 And in imagination revell d there ; 400 
 
 Laid future plans of happiness and ease, 
 
 When Love and Fortune would unite to please ; 
 
 With rapture dwelt upon the grateful theme, 
 
 And with regret dismiss d the waking dream. 
 
 Yes, twas a dream ! and I remain to prove 405 
 
 That both were shadows, promised wealth and love, 
 
 Whilst thou wert call d from visionary scenes 
 
 To real pleasures and eternal greens, 
 
 Ere sad Experience taught the cruel truth 
 
 That shadows only tempted ardent youth 410 
 
 Kidder ! tis mine to wish that Heaven s decree 
 
 Had snatclrd us both from this tempestuous sea, 
 
 That life had ended ere despair begun, 
 
 And, as below our hopes, above our joys been one. 
 
 Retired from sepulchres and " storied urns," 415 
 The m.ise to yonder Seminary turns ; 
 
 416/A I. Yonder Seminary, kc. 
 
 Yale College was founded in 1700, and remained at Killingsworth 
 until 1707, then at Saybrook until 1716, when it was removed and fixed 
 at New-Haven. It has its name from its principal benefactor, GOT. 
 Yale. There are at present eight college domiciles, three of which, 
 each one hundred feet long, are inhabited by the students, containing 
 21 
 
WOODWORTH S. Descriptive. 
 
 New-Haven. 
 
 Magnific pile, where architective grace 
 
 Shines in each fabric that adorns the place ; 
 
 But where exterior beauty but enshrines 
 
 Far nobler treasures Learning s richest mines. 420 
 
 Cradle of Genius ! here my willing muse 
 The tributary lay with joy pursues ; 
 Obsequious here the song she fain would raise 
 High as her theme, and give deserved praise. 
 But, ah ! her humble efforts sink below 42 
 
 The rich encomiums Justice bids bestow ; 
 With diffidence she dares attempt the strain 
 Which classic bards may hear with cold disdain ; 
 Fearful before Apollo s sons she sings, 
 Whose more harmonious lyres Minerva strings. 43C 
 
 First, with meek reverence would I enter where 
 Yon spire denotes the edifice for prayer ; 
 Access is mine, the willing gates unfold, 
 And Yale s assembled sons mine eyes behold ; 
 Our future statesmen, patriots, bards, divines, 43, 
 For whom bright Fame the fadeless laurel twines, 
 
 thirty -two chambers each, sufficient for lodging two hundred students ; 
 a chapel forty by fifty feet, with a steeple one hundred feet high ; 
 another edifice for the library, &c. of the same dimensions ; a dining 
 hall sixty by forty feet ; a house for the president, and another for the 
 professor of divinity ; the whole pleasantly situated west of the Green 
 which is spread before it. 
 
descriptive. WOOD WORTH S. 24,3 
 
 New -Haven. 
 
 Are here convened, and in each youthful face 
 
 Their rising greatness Fancy fain would trace. 
 
 Say, are not here some souls that restless burn, 
 
 On life s great stage to take an active turn ; 440 
 
 To rise, the awful pillars of the state, 
 
 And rival ancient Tully in debate ? 
 
 Some who possess a portion of that flame 
 
 That gain d our Washington immortal fame ? 
 
 Others, whose philanthropic bosoms glow 445 
 
 To shine like Franklin in relieving wo ? 
 
 Whose philosophic souls his fame inspires 
 
 To wield the thunder and direct its fires ; 
 
 To soar, on Learning s wing, through trackless space, 
 
 View countless orbs and all their movements trace, 450 
 
 Govenvd by order and unchanging laws, 
 
 And in effects behold the Eternal Cause ? 
 
 Some glowing with a Homer s living fire, 
 
 Design d to " wake to ecstacy the lyre," 
 
 To bid Columbia s future fame arise, 455 
 
 And rear Parnassus under western skies ; 
 
 Here fix the temple of the tuneful throng, 
 
 And rival Albion s boasted sons of song ? 
 
 Or are not here some destined yet to shine, 
 
 With cloudless lustre, in the desk divine ; 460 
 
 To wake the soul, and guide its feeble view 
 
 To Him who made, and can its form renew ; 
 
244 WOODWORTH S. Descriptive. 
 
 New-Haven. 
 
 Recal the wandering wretch, his course restrain, 
 And gently lead him to the fold again ; 
 Arouse the careless, and support the weak, 4G5 
 
 And gospel truths with voice unfaltering speak ? 
 
 But, see ! what dignity ! what ease and grace, 
 Combine in him who fills that sacred place ! 
 Renown d divine ! to thee my lays aspire, 
 Thou reverend minstrel of the epic lyre ! 470 
 
 Whose tuneful numbers, when thou didst them roll, 
 Portray thine own, and rap the listening soul. 
 But when within the sacred desk you stand, 
 And raise the eye devout, and spread the hand ; 
 Or, from that holy book, expound to youth 475 
 
 Precepts of Heavenly evangelic truth j 
 What soul will not enthusiastic glow 
 With warm devotion as thy accents flow ? 
 What heart can cold, inanimate remain, 
 And let thy matchless reasoning plead in vain ? 480 
 
 Hail, sons of Genius ! youthful sages, hail ! 
 The glory, pride, support, and boast of Yale 5 
 Your country s ornaments aspire to prove, 
 And grace the spheres in which you re call d to move ; 
 
 469//1 /. Renown d divine. 
 
 Dr. Dwight, president of Yale College, and professor of divinity ; a 
 great scholar, profound divine, and celebrated poet. 
 
Descriptive. WOODWORTH S. 245 
 
 New-Haven. 
 
 So shall your Alma Mater rise in fame, 485 
 
 And deathless honours decorate her name. 
 
 And here the muse bewails her hapless bard, 
 
 Whose cruel fate such golden prospects marr d, 
 
 For Hope once whisper d to his ardent breast, 
 
 Thy dearest, fondest wish shall be possess d"- 490 
 
 Unfolded to his view the classic page, 
 
 And all its treasures promised ripening age ; 
 
 Show d Learning s flowery path which led to Fame, 
 
 Whose distant temple glittered with his name. 
 
 Illusive all ! the phantom all believe, 495 
 
 Though stiil we know her promises deceive ; 
 
 Chill penury convinced the wretch, too late, 
 
 Her words were false, and his a hapless fate. 
 
 How many minds, that govern now our fates, 
 Rule o er the nation, or direct the states, 500 
 
 Were fashioned here ! the warrior and the sage, 
 And worthiest statesmen of the present age ; 
 Bards like our Trumbull, Barlow, Humphreys, Dwight, 
 Who thrill the soul with rapturous delight ; 
 
 503<4 I Bards like our Trumbull, &c. 
 
 John Trumbull, Esq. the author of a poem, in copious wit, second 
 only to the cantos of Butler ; and in vigour, dignity, and sweetness, 
 superiour to the " passing worth of Sir Hudibras." When the politics 
 of " M Fingal" are forgotten, the poem will be read, repeated, and 
 admired by every lover of the jocund muse. This poem, comprising 
 21* 
 
246 WOODWORTH S. Descriptive, 
 
 New-Haven. 
 
 And essayists grave, or politicians wise, 505 
 
 Who feel like Webster, or like Dana rise j 
 Chauncey, the firmest pillar of our laws, 
 And Daggett, eloquent in virtue s cause. 
 
 four cantos, was published in 1784, and has since passed through 
 several editions. " The Progress of Dullness," " Elegy on the Times," 
 and several other fruits of his genius, adorn the annals of American 
 poetry. 
 
 Joel Barlow, Esq. commenced the career of life by pursuing the 
 more flowery paths of literature. His " Vision of Columbus," his local 
 and satirical poems, and above all, his admirable " Hasty Pudding," 
 have conferred on him a degree of celebrity to which few American 
 bards have attained. While in Europe, he published, among other 
 pieces, " The Conspiracy of Kings," which has been repeatedly pub 
 lished in the United States. 
 
 Colonel David Humphreys, the friend of Dwight, Hopkins, T rum- 
 bull, Wolcott, Strong, and Barlow, was a distinguished star in this 
 constellation of geniuses. The " Anarchiad" is said to be the joint 
 production of these poets, whose primary design was to chastise the 
 promoters of measures hostile to good faith and sound policy, which 
 were, at that time, every where pursued the American Republic 
 being then united but in name What first drew public attention to 
 colonel Humphreys as a poet, was his " Address to the Armies." His 
 next publication of any note was his poem " On the Happiness of 
 America." This was followed by his " Essay on the Life of General 
 Putnam," and by his tragedy, entitled " The Widow of Malabar," 
 translated from the French, first played in May, and published in Au 
 gust, 1790. A poem entitled " Industry," published in Philadelphia, 
 in 1794, was his last production of note, and the author has now retired 
 to his seat at Humphreysville, where he has established an extensive 
 cloth manufactory. 
 
Descriptive. WOOD WORTH S. 24? 
 
 .New-Haven. 
 
 With hundreds more the muse coul<? grace her verse, 
 And bid her lyre their various worth rehearse, 510 
 But these suffice nor must her measured strain 
 Swell to more lines than these small bounds contain. 
 
 Eve shuts her windows let me now advance 
 Where the sweet viol leads the mazy dance ; 
 Here Pleasure warms the heart, and lights the eye, 515 
 While bounding pulses to the music fly ; 
 Here Grace and Beauty hold their happy court, 
 And raptured Fancy e er delights to sport. 
 How innocent, how rational is this ! 
 Where health receives new flush from virtuous bliss. 
 Hence, all ye sordid cares that peace destroy ! 521 
 Here bosoms only feel and throb to joy ; 
 Sacred to Pleasure is the present hour, 
 Nor Hate, nor Envy dare approach her bower. 
 
 Dr. Dwight s first poetical publication was the " Conquest of Ca 
 naan," an epic poem, in eleven books, printed in Hartford, in 1785, 
 and reprinted in London the next year. In this work the lover of 
 poetry will disco\er many passages highly poetical, and will probably 
 read the eleventh book with pleasure, more than once. The versifica 
 tion, for uniform correctness, has seldom been surpassed. In 1794, he 
 published, in New-York, his " Greenfield-Hill," a poem in seven parts, 
 which, three years afterwards, was also reprinted in London. Be 
 sides these, he is the reputed authorof many smaller poems, and several 
 exquisite pieces of unrivalled merit. 
 
248 WOODWORTH S. Descriptive. 
 
 New-Haven. 
 
 The sweetest art of all considered fine, 525 
 
 Is yet, New-Haven, exquisitely thine. 
 
 There is another source of joy, designed 
 To please the senses and instruct the mind, 
 To you unknown for Prejudice denies, 
 In this famed state, what liberal tastes must prize. 530 
 I mean the stage (the moralist may start) 
 I mean the stage improver of the heart 5 
 That holds the mirror up to vice and crime, 
 And " shows the form and pressure of the time." 
 Why is the drama in this place suppressed, 535 
 
 The treat with which your sister states are bless d ? 
 Why, here alone, are minds of taste deprived 
 Of all the joys from scenic arts derived? 
 For you, where Prejudice still holds her reign, 
 Has Shakspear wrote and Cooper lived in vain. 540 
 That blear-eyed monster is the deadliest foe 
 That Learning, Taste, and liberal Arts can know, 
 And here extends her sway : O drive her hence ! 
 And wake to Candour, liberty, and sense : 
 But, ah ! I urge in vain it cannot be, 545 
 
 Candour and " steady habits" won t agree 5 
 An age must roll a century must waste, 
 Ere you attain your sisters arts and taste. 
 
Descriptive. WOODWORTH S. 249 
 
 New-Haven. 
 
 But, though an infant, Taste can here be found, 
 Array d in flowers, her brow with garlands crown d, 
 And, when gay Flora s blush the town arrays, 551 
 In Mix s arbours she delighted plays ; 
 Wantons along the winding paths, or treads 
 In sportive gambols o er the rosy beds ; 
 Peeps through the foliage of the blossom d trees, 555* 
 That freight with sweetness evening s balmy breeze 5 
 Her glowing temple animates above, 
 And bids the wax discourse, the canvass move 5 
 Swells Griefs bright tear in fair Columbia s eye, 
 And teaches Music s breath to sweetly sigh. 560 
 
 How happy, once ! here I could careless stroll, 
 And feel no sorrows preying on my soul ; 
 
 552d I In Mi.c s arbours, &c. 
 
 The Columbian Gardens, kept by Mr. Mix, proprietor of the 
 Museum, may be considered the only resort for rational recreation. 
 Here, on a summer s evening, is sometimes convened a brilliant 
 assemblage of beauty, taste, and fashion. 
 
 55Tth I. Her glowing temple, &c. 
 
 The Columbian Museum, the rapid progress of which, towards 
 perfection, reflects great honour on the taste and industry of Mr. Mix, 
 is justly styled " The Temple of Taste." 
 
 559th I. Fair Columbia s eye. 
 
 The Genius of Columbia is represented, in wax, weeping at the 
 tomb of Washington. 
 
<->50~ WOODWORTH S. Descriptive. 
 
 fVew-lIa\en. 
 
 In yon alcove have mused, reclined and mute, 
 
 Or breathed my feelings through the pensive flute ; 
 
 Stray d through these alleys, in yon arbour sat, 565 
 
 QuaffM the rich juice, and join d in Friendship^ chat 5 
 
 Here Love, too, sometimes heightened every joy, 
 
 When smiles and roses only deckM the boy, 
 
 Ere disappointment barb d his harmless dart, 
 
 And Avarice tore it from my mangled heart. 570 
 
 New-Haven ! source of all my former joys ! 
 The demon, now, that all my bliss destroys ! 
 In you I view, with just, impartial eyes, 
 All that I love, and much that I despise. 
 Though you affect Religion to revere, 575 
 
 Her noblest precept finds few votaries here : 
 Sweet Charity, fair offspring of the skies, 
 You know not, feel not, have not learn d to prize ; 
 Truth bids me speak when I the past review, 
 I know not, feel not, charity for you ; 580 
 
 Who, when ye see Misfortune on the chase, 
 Let loose a pack of Slander and Disgrace ; 
 Hunt the poor wretch till he must yield and die, 
 Or, pierced with Censure s teeth, ignobly fly ; 
 As is the timid hare, by rustic clown, 585 
 
 Drove from her form, pursued, and hunted down. 
 Myself, a timid being, eager sought 
 Your famed retreat for liberty of thought, 
 
Descriptive. WOODWORTH S. 251 
 
 New- Haven. 
 
 The term of " steady habits" lured me here, 
 
 And Love detained for one short happy year. 590 
 
 But stern Misfortune, by one cruel blow, 
 
 Blasted my hopes, and laid my prospects low ; 
 
 Then as a fiend lank Poverty pursued, 
 
 And, huntsmen like, the cruel sport you view d ; 
 
 * The game in view! hark, forward !" was the cry, 
 
 And. gash d with wounds, the wretch was doom d to fly 5 
 
 His strength exhausted, he despairing fell, 
 
 And bade to Hope, and Love, and all, farewell ! 
 
 Was t not enough he bow d beneath the storm ? 
 
 But must you trample on his prostrate form, 600 
 
 Torture, and view him writhe beneath the smart, 
 
 Murder his peace, and tear his bleeding heart ? 
 
 O cruel malice ! source of his despair ! 
 
 " A wounded spirit who, alas ! can bear ?" 
 
 O who can tell what struggles rack d him here ? 605 
 
 Who count each bursting sigh, each falling tear, 
 
 That forced their passage from his aching breast, 
 
 When torn from prospects that had made him blest ? 
 
 Forbear, my muse ! nor dare the dangerous theme, 
 
 Recal not back the past illusive dream ; 610 
 
 Let dark Oblivion shroud it with her veil, 
 
 And in meek silence blasted hopes bewail. 
 

Valedictory. WOOD WORTH S. 253 
 
 The iVlinst:-ei"s> farewell to his Lyre 
 
 VALEDICTORY. 
 
 THE MIJVSTREL S FAREWELL TO If IS LYRE. 
 
 When Fate s stern fiat dooms fond friends to part, 
 What thrilling pangs pervade the feeling heart ! 
 With ardent glow the proffer d hand is pressed, 
 While the moist eye bespeaks the aching breast j 
 The final gaze, we, lingering, still renew, 
 Dreading the last, the painful word Adieu! 
 
 So I a bird of passage wont to rove 
 Have oft been doom d to leave the friends I love ; 
 Have oft been fated to endure the smart 
 Which now afflicts my lacerated heart ; 
 That heart, alive to every finer glow, 
 Enrapturing joy or ecstacy of wo. 
 Then, friends of song, attend your Minstrel s lay; 
 He sings but this, and throws his lyre away. 
 
 In life s fair morn, when sunshine warm d the scene, 
 And fairy hopes danced o er the laughing green, 
 His infant Muse essay d the artless strain, 
 On Charles s bank, or Newton s verdant plain 5 
 Gave him her lyre, and taught his hand to play, 
 While flattering Echo chanted back the lay. 
 22 
 
254 WOODWORTH e. Valedictory. 
 
 The Minstrel s Farewell to his Lyre. 
 
 Pleased, like a child, he fondly thought twas Fame, 
 Ambition kindled, and he sought the dame ; 
 Unknowing where her lofty temple stood, 
 He pierced the grotto and explored the wood ; 
 But vain the search, in meadow, vale, or hill, 
 The air-form d phantom flew, but answer d still. 
 Till tired Experience proved the sylvan scene 
 Held not the temple of ambition s queen. 
 
 With fond regret he left the calm retreat, 
 Where Nature s charms in sweet disorder meet, 
 Diversified with meadows, groves, and hills, 
 And Charles s thousand tributary rills 
 Left rustic joys, to court the city s smile, 
 And 1 woke the strain in Beauty s cause awhile 
 He sung of love a minstrel s sweetest dream, 
 And sung sincerely for he felt the theme ; 
 His soul was pour d in every amorous tone 
 An angel heard, and answer d with her own. 
 
 Columbia call d to arms her veterans sprung, 
 He felt the impulse, and of glory sung ; 
 Swept o er the chords, assumed a loftier lay, 
 And vent rous dared with bolder hand to play. 
 
 But, ah ! his harp no blooming laurel bears, 
 His humble brow no blushing garland wears j 
 
Valedictory. WOODWORTH S. 255 
 
 The Minstrel s Farewell to his Lyre. 
 
 Unknown, unsought, he must obscurely sigh. 
 Held from despair but by affection s tie ; 
 By love and penury condemned to know, 
 Like Leda ? s sons, alternate bliss and wo. 
 
 Then Fame, adieu! no more he courts your charms; 
 Welcome, Retirement ! take him to your arms ; 
 Here, gentle Muse, he gives you back the lyre, 
 Whose tones could once his youthful bosom fire. 
 That lyre shall sleep, nor breathe a tone again, 
 Till scenes celestial claim the glowing strain ; 
 Till realms eternal burst upon the view, 
 And animate the wondering bard anew. 
 Till then, farewell ! He follows Fame no more j 
 But spurns the shrine at which lie knelt before 
 Let Poverty prepare her bitterest draught, 
 And Malice barb his most inveterate shaft 
 The troubled dream of life will soon be o er, 
 And a bright morning dawn to fade no more. 
 
WOOBWORTEPS 
 SACRED MELODIES, 
 

 WOOBWORTEPS 
 SACRED MELODIES 
 
 CONSECRATION. 
 
 And did I say, my lyre should sleep,, 
 
 Because no laurels deck d it ; 
 That I no more its chords would sweep, 
 Because its lay is valued cheap, 
 
 And all the world neglect it ? 
 I did but felt not then the flame 
 
 Which now within me blazes, 
 Nor reck d of His eternal claim, 
 Who gave the lyre to sing His name, 
 
 And utter forth His praises. 
 
WOOD WORTH S. Sacred. 
 
 Philosophy and Theosophy. 
 
 But now that lyre shall sleep no more, 
 
 Nor wake to earthly measures ; 
 But every strain it warbles o er 
 Shall that Eternal Source adore, 
 
 Whence flow immortal pleasures. 
 No more I prostitute its lay 
 
 To subjects evanescent ; 
 But sing those scenes of endless day 
 Where angel harps in rapture play, 
 
 And praises flow incessant. 
 
 PHILOSOPHY AND THEOSOPHY. 
 
 There is a Philosophy, hollow, unsound, 
 To matter confining its false speculations; 
 
 Whose flight is confined within Nature s dull round. 
 Its pinions the web of sophistic persuasions. 
 
 And there s a Philosophy truly divine, 
 That traces effects up to spiritual causes, 
 
 Determines the link of the chain where they join. 
 And soars to an infinite height ere it pauses. 
 
 That meanly debases the image of God, 
 
 To rank with the brutes in the scale of creation : 
 
 This raises the tenant of light from the sod, 
 And bears him to heaven, his primitive station. 
 
Sacred. WOODWORTHS. 2(jl 
 
 Philosophy and J heosophy. 
 
 Hail, science of angels ! Theosophy, hail ! 
 
 That shows us the regions of bliss by reflection : 
 Removes from creation s broad mirror the vail, 
 
 Where spirit and matter appear in connexion. 
 
 It breaks on the soul in an ocean of light, 
 
 She starts from her lethargy, stretches her pinions r 
 
 Beholds a new world bursting forth on her sight, 
 And, soaring in ecstacy, claims her dominions.. 
 
 
 
 |A sense of original, dignified worth, 
 
 Her bosom expands with sublime exultation ; 
 She tastes immortality even on earth, 
 
 In light that eclipses the sun s emanation. 
 
 Be sages and pedants to nature confined, 
 
 And the bat darkly flutter in Luna s pale presence : 
 
 I ll soar, like the eagle, through regions of mind, 
 Tn the blaze of that Sun which is truth in its essence. 
 
262 WOOD WORTH S. Sacred 
 
 Regeneration. 
 
 REGENERATION. 
 
 A PARAPHRASE OF THE FIRST PSALM. 
 
 How happy the man who discards from his breast 
 The unhallowed passions from Nature possess d ; 
 Who heeds not their counsel or softest persuasion, 
 But treats them as foes upon every occasion. 
 
 Though the sunshine of peace such a bosom illumCj 
 Or nights of temptation involve it in gloom; 
 Whatever his state be, with calm resignation, 
 He looks to the Word of his God for salvation. 
 
 And the Word of his God, like a river of truth, 
 Gives each young-budding virtue the vigour of youth j 
 While practical love is still temper d by reason, 
 As the green leaflet decks the ripe fruit in its season. 
 
 Thus Regeneration proceeds from the Word, 
 If we combat our evils, and trust in the Lord ; 
 Then prosper, dear Saviour, each humble endeavour. 
 And thine be the glory, for ever and ever . 
 
WOOD WORTHS. 
 
 The Crucifixion. 
 
 THE CRUCIFIXION. 
 
 Weeping Mary, bathed in sorrow, 
 Lingered near the scene of horror, 
 
 Where the dying Saviour hung ; 
 From whose bursting heart arising, 
 Groans of anguish agonizing, 
 
 Floated o er His fever d tongue ! 
 
 O what sorrow, deep, unbounded, 
 That maternal bosom wounded, 
 
 Once the Saviour s couch of rest f 
 How she wept to see Him languish, 
 How she trembled for the anguish 
 
 Labouring in His guiltless breast ! 
 
 Who could witness, without weeping, 
 Gushing streams of sorrow sweeping 
 
 Down the mother s pallid cheek ? 
 Who with bosom unrelenting, 
 Could behold her thus lamenting, 
 
 Looking what no tongue could speak ? 
 
 While such pangs as fiends invented, 
 Still her suffering Son tormented, 
 
 Scorn and bruises, stripes, and death ; 
 
WOOD WORTH S. Sacred. 
 
 The Crucifixion. 
 
 She beheld Him thus expiring, 
 Human friends in fear retiring, 
 
 Whilst in groans He spent His breath ! 
 
 Matchless mercy ! love amazing ! 
 Far above our feeble praising, 
 
 Far beyond our humble lays ; 
 May its influence never vary, 
 Till my heart, like that of Mary, 
 
 Glow with a seraphic blaze. 
 
 Gracious Saviour, now in glory, 
 Be this sad affecting story, 
 
 Deeply on my soul imprest ! 
 May the scene of such affliction, 
 Bring the hardest heart conviction, 
 
 Melt the most obdurate breast ! 
 
sacred. WOODWORTH S. 265 
 
 The .New Jerusalem. 
 
 THE NEW JERUSALEM. 
 
 Rich in mercy, Jesus reigns, 
 
 Heaven owns no other king; ; 
 Crown Him, mortals, in your strains, 
 
 While His matchless grace you sing. 
 Angels wake their loftier lays, 
 
 Kindled from celestial fires ; 
 Humbler spirits bid His praise 
 
 Sweetly flow from silver lyres. 
 
 Mortals ! catch the pleasing strain, 
 
 Gratitude demands the song 
 Jesus builds His Church again, 
 
 Where your Babel stood so long. 
 Truth divine her wall supports, 
 
 Love has paved her streets of gold : 
 Jasper towers, and crystal courts, 
 
 Gates of pearl, that never fold. 
 
 Pilgrims ! enter, and rejoice- 
 Here your Saviour holds His throne j 
 
 ? Tis the City of His choice, 
 
 Tis the Church He calls His own. 
 
 Precious gems on every side, 
 
 Heightening all her heavenly charms 
 
 >Tis the Lamb s celestial Bride, 
 Smiling in her Husband s arms. 
 23 
 
266 WOODWORTH S. Sacred. 
 
 The Incarnation. 
 
 THE INCARNATION. 
 
 $*for a Seraph s golden lyre, 
 
 With chords of light, and tones of fire. 
 
 To sing that wond rous love 
 Which brought a Deity below, 
 To save an erring race from wo, 
 
 And give them joys above. 
 
 O may that love inspire my soul 
 Till such ecstatic numbers roll, 
 
 As are by angels given ; 
 To tell Redemption s wond rous plan, 
 "How Heaven descended down to man. 
 
 That man might rise to Heaven. 
 
 His creatures fell no pitying eye, 
 No powerful arm to save, was nigh, 
 
 Or aid our feeble powers ; 
 Jj e saw He came He fought alone. 
 And conquered evils not his own, 
 
 That we might conquer ours. 
 
 Temptation s thorny path He trod, 
 In form, a man in soul, a God ? 
 And trod the path alone j 
 
Sacred. WOODWORTII S. 
 
 The Incarnation. 
 
 In vain the direst fiends assaiFd, 
 His mighty arm of power prevail d, 
 And hell was overthrown. 
 
 He pass d the dismal vale of death 
 The human form resign d its breath, 
 
 And like a mortal died ; 
 But death was crush d beneath His feet; 
 He rose a God and man complete, 
 
 His human glorified. 
 
 Amazing Mercy ! love immense ! 
 Surpassing every human sense, 
 
 Since time and sense began ! 
 That man might shun the realms of pain., 
 And know and love his God again, 
 
 His God became a man ! 
 
WOODWORTH S. Sacred. 
 
 Miriam s Son 
 
 MIRIAM S SONG.* 
 
 THE LORD S VICTORY IJV" TEMPTATION. 
 
 Sing to Jehovah an anthem of praise, 
 And tell of His glory in rapturous lays 5 
 Sing of His triumphs when demons assaulted, 
 When hosts of infernals His human assail d, 
 The hells were subdued, and the Victor exalted 
 Like man He was tempted like God He prevailM. 
 Sing to Jehovah an anthem of praise, 
 And tell of His triumphs in rapturous lays. 
 
 Praise Him, ye ransom d He conquered for you, 
 Who fled from your sins, and beheld them pursue ; 
 Whelming your spirits in deep tribulation ; 
 But Jesus was present, a pillar of fire,t 
 \nd led you in safety through seas of temptation, 
 In which you beheld each assailant expire. 
 Sing to Jehovah an anthem of praise, 
 And tell of His triumphs in rapturous lays. 
 
 * And Miriam the prophetess, the sister of Aaron, took a timbrel 
 in her hand ; and all the women went out after her with timbrels and 
 with dances. And Miriam answered them, sing ye to the Lord, for 
 he hath triumphed gloriously ; the horse and his rider hath he thrown 
 into the sea. Exodus xv. 20, 21. 
 
 f And it came to pass, that in the morning watch the Lord looked 
 unto the host of the Egyptians through the pillar of fire. xiv. 24>, 
 
Sacred. 
 
 WOOD WORTH S. 
 
 269 
 
 Miriam s Son 
 
 Praise Him who conquer d our spiritual foes, 
 When fierce, like an army of horsemen, they rose, 
 Threat ning again in their shackles to bind us ; 
 
 Through billows of trouble He led us to shore, 
 While the horse and his rider were founder d behind 115;, 
 O erwhelm d in the gulf, to assail us no more. 
 Sing to Jehovah an anthem of praise, 
 And tell of His triumphs in rapturous lays. 
 
 23* 
 
WOODWORTH S. Sacred. 
 
 ---_ . ,,-,-___, -_ .-j -. , 1 -!_.. - - 
 
 Open the Door. 
 
 OPEN THE DOOR.* 
 
 That God, who calls the human mind 
 A temple for himself designed,! 
 
 A house upon a rock | 
 Assures us He will patient wait, 
 In mercy, at the mental gate, 
 
 And for admittance knock. 
 
 Who hears the gracious call within. 
 And draws the iron bolts of sin, 
 
 Which barricade the door, 
 Will banquet with a guest divine, 
 On life-imparting food and wine, 
 
 From Love s exhaustless store. 
 
 Come, then, dear Saviour be my guest, 
 Knock louder at this flinty breast, 
 
 And rouse me with thy voice 5 
 Then will I struggle to remove 
 The sins which now obstruct thy love, 
 
 And in that love rejoice. 
 
 * Behold I stand at the door and knock : if any man hear my voice, 
 and open the door, I will come in to him aud will sup with him, and be 
 wit-! iw. Revelation iii. 20. 
 
 f See I. Cor iii 16. 11. Cor. vi. 16. 
 
 t See Matthew vii. 24. 
 
Sacred. 
 
 WOOD WORTH S. 
 
 Open the Door. 
 
 Thou wilt not let me strive in vain 
 The gates of brass shall burst in twain, 
 
 The iron bars shall fall ; 
 Then will my soul thy temple be, 
 \Vhere I shall ever feast with Thee ? 
 
 My God, my life, my all ! 
 
27:2 WOOD WORTH S. Sacred. 
 
 Sin no more 
 
 SIN NO MORE.* 
 
 A song of gratitude begin, 
 To praise the God who saves from sin ; 
 Who marks the penitential tear 
 And deigns the contrite sigh to hear ; 
 Who whispers hope, when we our sins deplore 
 " Thy God condemns thee not offend no more. * 1 
 
 But, ah ! such love can ne er be sung 
 Such boundless grace ! by mortal tongue ; 
 For e en celestial minstrels deem 
 Their highest skill below the theme ; 
 Yet mortals can, with gratitude, adore 
 The God who pardons all that sin no more. 
 
 Dear Lord ! is this condition all ? 
 
 To fight the foes that wrought our fall ? 
 
 Thus arm d with hope, I ll quell a host, 
 
 Nor let so cheap a heaven be lost ; 
 O then repeat the sweet assurance o er, 
 " Thy God will not condemn thee sin no more." 
 
 * And Jesus said unto her, neither do I condemn thee ; go, and sin 
 no more. John viii. 11. 
 
Sacred. WOOD WORTH S. 2?3 
 
 God in His I emplt. 
 
 GOD IN HIS TEMPLE. 
 
 God is in His holy Temple, 
 
 Sons of earth, be silent now ;* 
 Hither let the saints assemble, 
 
 And before His footstool bow. 
 Lo, He s present with us ever, 
 
 When assembled in His name ;t 
 Aiding every good endeavour, 
 
 Guiding every humble aim. 
 
 God is in His holy Temple, 
 
 7 Tis each renovated mind;f 
 Where the purer thoughts assemble, 
 
 While the base are cast behind. 
 Every earthly, low affection, 
 
 Long opposed, is silent now ; 
 Every passion, in subjection, 
 
 Must at Wisdom s altar bow. 
 
 * The LorrI is in His holy Temple 5 let all the earth keep silence 
 before him. Hab. ii. 20. 
 
 f- For where two or three are gathered together in my name, there 
 am I in the midst of them. JUatthem xviii. 20. 
 
 i Ye are the Temple ofGod, 1. Cor. iii. 16. II. Cor. vi. 16. 
 
274 WOODWORTH S. Sacred. 
 
 God in His Temple. 
 
 God is in His holy Temple, 
 
 7 Tis the church He calls His own, 
 "Tis the city where assemble 
 
 All who worship Him alone.* 
 New-Jerusalem the holy 
 
 Is the city of our God, 
 There our Saviour governs solely, 
 
 With the balance and the rod. 
 
 God is in His holy Temple, 
 
 ? Tis the Body of our Lord ;f 
 Infidels may doubt and tremble, 
 
 We have learn d it from His WORD ; 
 From that WORD which wrought creation,! 
 
 From that WORD which flesh became,^ 
 Which alone can ^ive salvation 
 
 God and Jesus are the same. 1 1 
 
 * And F saw no temple therein; for the. Lord God Almighty and 
 the Lam!; are the temple of it the Lamb is the light thereof. Rev. 
 sxi. 22, 23. 
 
 f Tie spake of the temple of His body. John ii. 21. God was in 
 Christ, reconciling the world to Himself. //. Cor. v. 19. 
 
 | All things were made by Him. Jo/in i. 3. 
 
 The Word was made fltsh, and dwelt among us. John i, 14. 
 
 [I Jesus said I and my Father are one. Jo!m x. 30. 
 
Sacred. WOODVVORTH S. 
 
 Redemption. 
 
 REDEMPTION. 
 
 Redemption claims our highest lays, 
 To Jesus Christ belongs the praise ; 
 The lofty theme should fire the soul, 
 And music s richest numbers roll. 
 Our blest Redeemer is the God we own, 
 Then swell the chorus to His name alone. 
 
 Unseen, unknown, and unreveal d,* 
 No creature s eye our God beheld, 
 Till He the wond rous work begun, 
 And show d the Father in the Son ;t 
 Jehovah now as Jesus Christ is known, 
 Then swell the chorus to His name alone. 
 
 * No man hath seen God at any time. John i. 18. 
 
 Dwelling in the light which no man can approach unto ; whom no 
 man hath seen, nor can see. Tim. vi. 16. 
 
 Thou canst not see my face ; for there shall no man see me, and live. 
 Exodus xxxiii. 20. 
 
 f Philip saith unto Jesus, Lord, show us the Father, and it sufficeth 
 us. Jesus saith unto him, have I been so long time with you, and yet 
 hast thou not known ME, Philip ? He that hath seen ME, hath seen 
 the Father ; and sayest thou then show us the Father ? / am in the 
 Father and the Father in ME. John xiv. 8, 9, 1 0, 1 1 . 
 
276 WOODWORTirS. Sacred. 
 
 Redemption. 
 
 From heaven His pitying eye survey d* 
 The ruin sin on earth had made j 
 He saw His cmitures run the road 
 Which led from happiness and God ; 
 He saw, and saved the work was all His own, 
 Then swell the chorus to His name alone. 
 
 Swift from supernal realms of day, 
 Seraphic minstrels wing d their way, 
 To hail the great Redeemer s birth, 
 And publish peace to men on earth : 
 * To God give glory 7 sung the joyous throng, 
 Let men and angels still repeat the song. 
 
 Alas ! no human accents can 
 
 Express the love of God to man ; 
 
 Who, to redeem a sinful worm, 
 
 Assumed the human mind and form; 
 W T as born a man, that man might be re-born ! 
 Then let us praise Him on His natal morn. 
 
 * The Lord looked down from heaven upon the children of men, 
 to see if there were any that did understand, and seek God. 
 
 They are all gone aside, they are all together bee x me filthy : there 
 is none that doeth good, no, not one. Psalm xiv. 3, 4. 
 
Sacred. WOOD WORTH S. 
 
 The Nativit. 
 
 THE NATIVITY. 
 
 Strike the loud anthem to hail the blest morning, 
 
 Jesus the Saviour an infant appears ; 
 Lo! in the East, a new day-spring is dawning!* 
 Hark ! the glad tidings which sound in our ears . 
 
 On this auspicious morn, 
 
 To us a child is born,t 
 Glory to God in the highest be given ; 
 
 Hail our Redeemer s birth 
 
 Good will and Peace on earth 
 Man shall again have conjunction with Heaven. 
 
 Hark ! twas the voice of a seraph that sounded 
 
 Shepherds of Judea start with surprise, 
 While, with a radiance of glory surrounded, 
 
 Troops of bright angels descend from the skies. 
 
 Now loud the choral strain 
 
 Swells round the happy plain, 
 Glory to God in the highest be given ; 
 
 Hail our Redeemer s birth 
 
 Good will and Peace on earth 
 Man shall again have conjunction with Heaven. 
 
 * The day-spring from on high hath visited us. Luke i. 78. 
 
 f Unto us a Child is born, unto us a Son is given, and the govern 
 ment shall be upon his shoulders ; and his name shall be called Won 
 derful, Counsellor, the Mighty God, the Everlasting Father, the Prinee 
 of Peace. Isa. ix. 6. 
 
 24 
 
278 
 
 WOODWORTH S. 
 
 Sacred. 
 
 The Nativity. 
 
 Hail to the Saviour, descending from Heaven, 
 
 To build him a kingdom which never shall cease ^ 
 The Child that is born and the Son that is given, 
 Is God everlasting, the great Prince of Peace. 
 
 Praise Him with grateful lays, 
 
 Pour forth the soul in praise; 
 The government rests on His shoulders alone: 
 
 In Him the Godhead dwells 
 
 Which has subdued the hells ; 
 And God the Creator, as Jesus is known. 
 
Sacred. WOODWORTH S. 
 
 279 
 
 True Worship. 
 
 TRUE WORSHIP, 
 
 THE SACRIFICE OF THE HEART. 
 
 How shall we sinners come before* 
 Our blessed Saviour s dazzling throne ; 
 
 Or how acceptably adore 
 
 The great redeeming God we own ? 
 
 Shall fallings on His altar burn, 
 Or oil in bounteous rivers flow ? 
 
 Will God be pleased with such return, 
 For all the mighty debt we owe ? 
 
 Or shall we burst the tenderest tie 
 
 That binds the throbbing seat of sense^ 
 
 And with our body s offspring buy, 
 A pardon for our soul s offence ? 
 
 * Wherewith shall I come before Jehovah, and bow myself before 
 the high God ? Shall I come before him with burnt-ofTerings,with calves 
 of a year old ? Will Jehovah be pleased with thousands of rams, or 
 with ten thousands of rivers of oil ? Shall I give my first-born for my 
 transgression, the fruit of my body for the sin of my soul ? He hath, 
 showed thee, O man, what is good : and what doth Jehovah require 
 fthee, but to do justly, and to love mercy, and to walk humbly with 
 thv Gcd ? Micah ri. 6 to 8. 
 
280 WOODWORTH S. Sacred. 
 
 True Worship. 
 
 Ah ! no a humble, contrite heart, 
 Is all the offering God requires 5 
 
 Our only sacrifice, to part 
 With evil loves and false desires. 
 
 
 O let us, then, no longer stray 
 
 Along the dangerous paths we ve trod 5 
 For he has plainly showed the way 
 
 Which will conduct us back to God. 
 
 ? Tis but to regulate the mind 
 
 By the pure precepts of His word ; 
 
 To act with truth and love combined, 
 And humbly imitate the Lord. 
 
WOODWORTH S. 281 
 
 True Worship. 
 
 SEEK YE THE LORD. 
 
 Ye sons of men, come, seek the Lord,, 
 While yet He may be found ;* 
 
 He ll meet you in His holy word,, 
 Where love and truth abound. 
 
 Call on Him while He yet is near 
 
 To hear a sinner s call 5 
 A humble penitential tear 
 
 Will never vainly fall. 
 
 Let man forsake the sinner s road, 
 Discard each vicious thought, 
 
 Return to Jesus, as his God, 
 And be by Jesus taught j 
 
 Then will the Lord his mercy show 5 
 
 His pardon freely give ; 
 Then man his only good will know, 
 
 And in that knowledge live. 
 
 * Seek ye Jehovah while he may be found, call ye upon him while 
 he is near. Lei the wicked forsake his way, and the unrighteous man 
 his thoug-hts ; and let him return unto Jehovah, and be will have mer 
 cy upon him, and to our God, for he will abundantly pardon. 
 
 Isa. iv. 6, 7. 
 
 24* 
 
282 WOODWORTH 9. Sacred. 
 
 Regeneration. 
 
 FIRST STATE OF REGENERATION. 
 
 There is a world the world of mind, 
 By neither time nor space confined ; 
 And when we cease in flesh to dwell, 
 That world will be our heaven or hell. 
 
 By fallen nature, tis, alas I 
 A rude, chaotic, shapeless mass ;* 
 Devoid of goodness, truth, or light, 
 And veiPd in blackest shades of night. 
 
 .But He who gave creation birth, 
 Can re-create this mental earth ; 
 For this His spirit, like a dove,t 
 Broods o er our secret thoughts in love. 
 
 If we consent to be renew d, 
 
 And wish our evil lusts subdued ; 
 
 " Let there be light," He says, and straight 
 
 We see our low disorder d state. 
 
 * And the earth was without form and void ; and darkness waf 
 upon the face of the deep. Gen. i. 2. 
 
 t And the spirit of God jnoyed ypon the face of the waters. 
 
 Gen. i. 2, 
 
Sacred. WOODWORTH S. O&3 
 
 Regeneration. 
 
 Then do we seek to know the Lord, 
 Receive instruction from His word ; 
 While He divides the day from night, 
 And we proceed from shade to light. 
 
 Lord, let thy spirit, like a dove, 
 Brood over all our souls in love, 
 Then give us light our state to see, 
 And we will give the praise to thee. 
 
 SECOND STATE OF REGENERATION. 
 
 Our God can re-create, 
 And form the soul anew; 
 And all who will co-operate, 
 
 Shall find His promise true. 
 
 t 
 
 When we permit His light 
 Our evils to reprove, 
 And then those evils boldly fight, 
 He will the whole remove. 
 
 Though hard the contest prove^ 
 And doubtful seem the fray, 
 He hovers o er us with his love, 
 Till we have gain d the day. 
 
284 WOODWORTH S. Sacred. 
 
 Regeneration. 
 
 The Lord will then create 
 A firmament sublime, 
 Celestial thoughts to separate 
 
 From those of sense and time. 
 
 We then no more believe 
 The work to be our own ; 
 But all of good that we receive 
 Ascribe to God alone. 
 
 Thus will a second birth 
 Form heaven in the soul, 
 And man, a new created earth^ 
 In order s orbit roll. 
 
 FINIS. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Page. 
 
 Sketch of the Author s Life, - r * > - - 3 
 
 The Minstrel, - IS 
 
 The Flowers of Life, - 15 
 
 Evening, - - -._ - , - 17 
 
 I love to hear the flute s sweet notes, - 19 
 
 Friendship, - - - "". ; - - 20 
 
 The Tomb of Henry, -^ - 22 
 
 Edwin Delile - 21 
 
 Autumnal Reflections, - - f~ --^--rr* . ^ 25 
 
 Beauty -y . 27 
 
 To a Nosegay, - - * * . " - 28 
 
 Female Ornaments, - - - - -29 
 
 The Wreath of Love, - < - - . ^ 30 
 
 Nature and the Passions, : -- - ,* ?V 32 
 
 To the Rev. John Hargrove, - ; ^ - 34 
 
 To Miss H. t - - . ,..; . . . 3^ 
 
 Flatbush, - - j = :#V - 73 
 
 The Meeting, .. - ^- \ - . ^ 39 
 
 Fashion, - >.-,.. :].. * . . 40 
 
286 CONTENTS. 
 
 Love in Camp, - - 
 
 To Catharine Yes or No, 
 
 A Kiss, - - ;.- t 
 
 Variety, - - - - - 
 
 The Journey of Love, - 
 
 Good Morning, - 
 
 Giving and Receiving, * " - 
 
 Harriet s Favourite Poems, - 
 
 The Rose-Bud, - - 
 
 The Pilgrim, 
 
 The Sigh, - 
 
 To Mary, | - 
 
 The Reconciliation, - S . 
 
 Zorayda to Selim, - 
 
 Selim to Zorayda, 
 
 Zorayda to Selim, - - V 
 
 Selim to Zorayda, 
 
 Zorayda to Selim, 
 
 The Harbour of Happiness, ^ 
 
 A Dream, - - - - - 
 
 The Poplar, 
 
 Time, the Physician of Disappointed Love, 
 
 My Mother s Grave, - > 
 
 Monody on the Death of a Friend, * 
 
 On the Death of an Infant, - - 
 
 On the Death of a Child, 
 
 Qn the Death of a favourite Kitten, 
 
CONTENTS. 287 
 
 Page. 
 
 Ode for the Juvenile Patriots, - - - 91 
 
 Ode 2 for Independence, - - 93 
 
 Ode 3 t do. .... 96 
 
 Ode 4 do. - V - , - - 98 
 
 Ode 5 Typographical Celebration, - 101 
 
 Ode 6 do. - do. - 105 
 
 Ode 7 do. -do. - 108 
 
 Ode 8 do. - do. - \ - 110 
 
 Ode 9 do. do. ^ - 112 
 
 Ode 10 do. - do. i - 114 
 
 The Bugle, - - - - - 116 
 
 Presidential Inauguration Ode, - 117 
 
 Hibernia s Tears, - 119 
 
 The Exiled Harper, - 120 
 
 The Irish Orphan, - 123 
 
 Victory No. 1 Constitution and Guerrierre, - 126 
 
 Victory No. 2 Wasp and Frolic, - - - 128 
 
 Victory No. 3 United States and Macedonian, 130 
 
 Victory No. 4 Constitution and Java, . - 132 
 
 Victory No. 5 Hornet and Peacock, - - 136 
 
 Victory No. 6 Enterprise and Boxer, -, - 138 
 
 Victories No. 7 and 11 Erie and Champlain, 140 
 
 Victory No. 8 Saratoga and Morgiana, - - 142 
 
 Sew- Year Address, for 1813, - 145 
 
 New-Year Address, for 181-6, - 152 
 
 New-Year Address, for 1811, ... 153 
 
 First Lesson of Love, - . - - . - 169 
 
285 CONTENTS. 
 
 Page. 
 
 Second Lesson of Love, - - :./ - 170 
 
 Third Lesson of Love, ..- ,*v , - i& - 172 
 
 Cupid s Lamentation, - - - % _ - 175 
 
 The Old Maid s Complaint, fe% T * - - 177^ 
 
 The Whiskers a Tale, - ,; > ,. ,. . 173 
 
 The Inexperienced Barber, - - - -182 
 Quarter-Day, or the Horrors of the First of May, 1 87 
 
 New-Haven, ,,- - - - -218 
 
 Valedictory, . - 253 
 
 Sacred Melodies, - - 257 
 Consecration, - ... .259 
 Philosophy and Theospphy, - - 260 
 
 Regeneration, - - - 262 
 
 The Crucifixion, - .... 263 
 
 The New-Jerusalem, ... .,.- , . 260 
 
 The Incarnation, - ..; . ^ 266 
 
 Miriam s Song, - - - < u >f 268 
 
 Open the Door, - .-p* - - /. . 270 
 
 Sin no more, .,- ,- ; ,>;- - - - 272 
 
 God in His Temple, < ,;? - v , - - 273 
 
 Redemption, - . "- ^-r- - - - 275 
 
 The Nativity, >- . - - : -.. ., * . 277 
 
 True Worship, the sacrifice of the heart - 279 
 
 Seek ye the Lord, - - ;-:, -f - 281 
 
 First state of Regeneration, ; ~- T v- - 282 
 
 Second state of Regeneration, --,> >\ . 283 
 
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