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But come again, and I will yet
Thy past ingratitude forget :
0! come again! thy witching powers
Shall claim my solitary hours :
With thee to cheer me, heavenly queen,
And conscience clear, and health serene,
And friends, and books, to banish spleen,
My life should be, as it had been,

A sweet variety of joys;
And Glory's crown, and Beauty's smile,
And treasured hoards should seem the while

The idlest of all human toys.

SOLOMON AND THE GENIUS.*

I chose thee, Ease! and Wealth withdrew,

Indignant at the choice I made,
And, to her first resentment true,

My scorn with tenfold scorn repaid.
Now, noble palace, lofty dome,
Or cheerful, hospitable home,

Are comforts I must never know :
My enemies shall ne'er repine
At pomp or pageantry of mine,
Nor prove, by bowing at my shrine,

Their souls are abject, base, and low.
No wondering crowd shall ever stand
With gazing eye and waving hand,

To mark my train, and pomp, and show :
And, worst of all, I shall not live
To taste the pleasures Wealth can give,

When used to soothe another's wo.
The peasants of my native land
Shall never bless my open hand;
No wandering bard shall celebrate
His patron's hospitable gate :
No war-worn soldier, shatter'd tar,
Nor exile driven from afar,
Nor hapless friend of former years,
Nor widow's prayers, nor orphan's tears,
Nor helpless age relieved from cares,
Nor innocence preserved from snares,
Vor houseless wanderer clothed and fed,
Nor slave from bitter bondage led,
Nor youth to noble actions bred,
Shall call down blessings on my head.
I chose thee, Ease! and yet the while,
So sweet was Beauty's scornful smile,
So fraught with every lovely wile,
Yet seemingly so void of guile,

It did but heighten all her charms;
And, goddess, had I loved thee then
But with the common love of men,
My fickle heart had changed agen,
Even at the very moment when

I woo'd thee to my longing arms:
For never may I hope to meet
A smile so sweet, so heavenly sweet.
I chose thee, EASE! and now for me

No heart shall ever fondly swell,
No voice of rapturous harmony

Awake the music-breathing shell ; Nor tongue, or witching melody

Its love in faltering accents tell;
Nor flushing cheek, nor languid eye,
Nor sportive smile, nor artless sigh,

Confess affection all as well.
No snowy bosom's fall and rise
Shall e'er again enchant my eyes ;
No melting lips, profuse of bliss,
Shall ever greet me with a kiss ;
Nor balmy breath pour in my ear
The trifles Love delights to hear:
But, living, loveless, hopeless, I
Unmoured and unloved must die.

I chose thee, Ease! and yet to me
Coy and ungrateful thou hast proved;

Though I have sacrificed to thee Much that was worthy to be loved.

SPIRIT op Thorgat! Lo! art thou here?

Lord of the false, fond, ceaseless spell That mocks the heart, the eye, the ear

Art thou, indeed, of heaven or hell?

In mortal bosoms dost thou dwell, Self-exiled from thy native sphere ?

Or is the human mind thy cell Of torment? To inflict and bear

Thy doom !--the doom of all who fell ? Since thou hast sought to prove my skill,

Unquestion'd thou shalt not depart, Be thy behests or good or ill,

No inatter what or whence thou art !

I will commune with thee apart,
Yea! and compel thee to my will

If thou hast power to yield my heart
What earth and Heaven deny it still.
I know thee, Spirit! thou hast been

Light of my soul by night and day ;
All-seeing, though thyself unseen;

My dreams-my thoughts-andwhat are they,

But visions of a calmer ray ?
All! all were thine—and thine between

Each hope that melted fast away,
The throb of anguish, deep and keen!
With thee I've search'd the earth, the sea,

The air, sun, stars, man, nature, time,
Explored the universe with thee,

Plunged to the depths of wo and crime,

Or dared the fearful height to climb,
Where, amid glory none may see

And live, the ETERNAL reigns sublime,
Who is, and was, and is to be!
And I have sought, with thee have sought,

Wisdom's celestial path to tread,
Hung o'er each page with learning fraught;

Question’d the living and the dead:

* The Moslem imagine that SOLOMON acquired dominion over all the orders of the genii--good and evil. It is even believed he sometimes condescended to converse with his new subjects. On this supposition he has been represented interrogating a genius, in the very wise, but very disagreeable mood of mind which led to the conclusion that “All is vanity!" Touching the said genius, the author has not been able to discover whether he or she (even the sex is equivocal) was of Allah or Eblis, and, therefore, left the matter where he found it-in discreet doubt.

The patriarchs of ages fled-
The prophets of the time to come

All who one ray of light could shed
Beyond the cradle or the tomb.
And I have task'd my busy brain

To learn what haply none may know,
Thy birth, seat, power, thine ample reign

O'er the heart's tides that ebb and flow,

Throb, languish, whirl, rage, freeze, or glow Like billows of the restless main,

Amid the wrecks of joy and wo By ocean's caves preserved in vain. And oft to shadow forth I strove,

To my mind's eye, some form like thine, And still my soul, like Noal's dove,

Return'd, but brought, alas! no sign:

Till, wearying in the mad design,
With fever'd brow and throbbing vein,

I left the cause to thread the mine
Of wonderful effects again!
But now I see thee face to face,

Thou art indeed, a thing divine;
An eye pervading time and space,

And an angelic look are thine,

Ready to seize, compare, combine
Essence and form—and yet a trace

Of grief and care—a shadowy line
Dims thy bright forehead's heavenly grace.
Yet thou must be of heavenly birth,

Where naught is known of grief and pain; Though I perceive, alas ! where earth

And earthly things have left their stain :

From thine high calling didst thou deign To prove-in folly or in mirth

With daughters of the first-born Caix, How little Human Love is worth ?

Didst thou not then, in evil hour,

Light in my soul ambition's flame? Didst thou not say the joys of power,

Unbounded sway, undying fame,

A monarch's love alone should claim ?
And did I not pursue e'en these?

And are they not, when won, the same?
All VanITY OF VANITIES!
Didst not, to tempt me once again,

Bid new, deceitful visions rise,
And hint, though won with toil and pain,

“ Wisdom's the pleasure of the wise !"

And now, when none beneath the skies
Are wiser held hy men than me,

What is the value of the prize ?
It too, alas! is Vanity!
Then tell me-since I've found on earth

Not one pure stream to slake this thirst,
Which still torments us from our birth,

And in our heart and soul is nursed;

This hopeless wish wherewith we're cursed, Whence came it, and why was it given?

Thou speak’st not !-Let me know the worst! Thou pointest!-and it is to Heaven!

A FAREWELL TO AMERICA.*

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Ha! dost thou change before mine eyes !

Another form! and yet the same, But lovelier, and of female guise,

A vision of ethereal flame,

Such as our heart's despair can frame, Pine for, love, worship, idolize,

Like HERS, who from the sea-foam came, And lives but in the heart, or skies,

FAREWELL! my more than fatherland!

Home of my heart and friends, adieu ! Lingering beside some foreign strand,

How oft shall I remember you!

How often, o'er the waters blue,
Send back a sigh to those I leave,

The loving and beloved few,
Who grieve for me,—for whom I grieve!
We part !—no matter how we part,

There are some thoughts we utter not,
Deep treasured in our inmost heart,

Never reveal'd, and ne'er forgot!

Why murmur at the common lot?
We part !-I speak not of the pain,

But when shall I each lovely spot
And each loved face behold again?
It must be months,-it may be years,—

It may—but no !-I will not fill
Fond hearts with gloom,-fond eyes with tears,

“Curious to shape uncertain ill.” Though humble,-few and far,—yet, still Those hearts and eyes are ever dear;

Theirs is the love no time can chill, The truth no chance or change can sear! All I have seen, and all I see,

Only endears them more and more; Friends cool, hopes fade, and hours flee,

Affection lives when all is o'er!

Farewell, my more than native shore ! I do not seek or hope to find,

Roam where I will, what I deplore To leave with them and thee behind!

Spirit of CAANGE! I know thee too,

I know thee by thine Iris bow, By thy cheek's ever-shifting hue,

By all that marks thy steps below;

By sighs that burn, and tears that glowFalse joys-vain hopes—that mock the heart;

From Fancy's urn these evils flow, SPIRIT OF LIES! for such thou art!

Saidst thou not once, that all the charms

Of life lay hid in woman's love, And to be lock'd in Beauty's arms,

Was all men knew of heaven above ?

And did I not thy counsels prove, And all their pleasures, all their pain ?

No more! no more my heart they move, For I, alas ! have proved them vain!

* Written on board ship Westminster, at sea, off the Highlands of Neversink, June 1, 1835

NAPOLEON'S GRAVE.

STANZAS.

Fairt and sad was the moonbeam's smile,

My life is like the summer rose Sullen the moan of the dying wave;

That opens to the morning sky, Hoarse the wind in St. Helen's isle,

But ere the shades of evening close, As I stood by the side of Napoleon's grave.

Is scatter'd on the ground—to die!

Yet on the rose's humble bed And is it here that the hero lies,

The sweetest dews of night are shed, Whose name has shaken the earth with dread?

As if she wept the waste to seeAnd is this all that the earth supplies,

But none shall weep a tear for me! A stone his pillow—the turf his bed ?

My life is like the autumn leaf Is such the moral of human life?

That trembles in the moon's pale ray, Are these the limits of glory's reign?

Its hold is frail-its date is brief, Have oceans of blood, and an age of strife,

Restless—and soon to pass away! And a thousand battles been all in vain ?

Yet, ere that leaf shall fall and fade,

The parent trec will mourn its shade, Is nothing left of his victories now

The winds bewail the leafless tree, But legions broken-a sword in rust

But none shall breathe a sigh for me! A crown that cumbers a dotard's brow

My life is like the prints, which feet A name and a requiem-dust to dust ?

Have left on Tampa's desert strand; Of all the chieftains whose thrones he rear'd,

Soon as the rising tide shall beat, Was there none that kindness or faith could bind?

All trace will vanish from the sand; or all the monarchs whose crowns he spared,

Yet, as if grieving to efface

All vestige of the human race, Had none one spark of his Roman mind?

On that lone shore loud moans the sea, Did Prussia cast no repentant glance ?

But none, alas! shall mourn for me!
Did Austria shed no remorseful tear,
When England's truth, and thine honour, France,
And thy friendship, Russia, were blasted here?

TO LORD BYRON.
No holy leagues, like the heathen heaven, Byron! 'tis thine alone, on eagles' pinions,
Ungodlike shrunk from the giant's shock;

In solitary strength and grandeur soaring, And glorious Titan, the unforgiven,

To dazzle and delight all eyes; outpouring Was doom'd to his vulture, and chains, and rock. The electric blaze on tyrants and their minions ;

Earth, sea, and air, and powers and dominions, And who were the gods that decreed thy doom?

Nature, man, time, the universe exploring; A German Cesar-a Prussian sage

And from the wreck of worlds, thrones, creeds, The dandy prince of a counting-room

opinions, And a Russian Greek of earth's darkest age.

Thought, beauty, eloquence, and wisdom storing:

0! how I love and envy thee thy glory, Men call'd thee Despot, and call’d thee true;

To every age and clime alike belonging; But the laurel was earn'd that bound thy brow; Link'd by all tongues with every nation's glory. And of all who wore it, alas ! how few

Thou Tacitus of song! whose echoes, thronging Were freer from treason and guilt than thou !

O’er the Atlantic, fill the mountains hoary

And forests with the name my verse is wronging. Shame to thee, Gaul, and thy faithless horde !

Where was the oath which thy soldiers swore ?
Fraud still lurks in the gown, but the sword
Was never so false to its trust before.

TO THE MOCKING-BIRD.
Where was thy veteran's boast that day,

Wing's mimic of the woods! thou motley fool! « The old Guard dies, but it never yields ?”

Who shall thy gay buffoonery describe ? 0! for one heart like the brave DessaIX,

Thine ever-ready notes of ridicule One phalanx like those of thine early fields ! Pursue thy fellows still with jest and gibe :

Wit, sophist, songster, Yorick of thy tribe, But, no, no, no !-it was Freedom's charm Thou sportive satirist of Nature's school ;

Gave them the courage of more than men; To thee the palm of scoffing we ascribe, You broke the spell that twice nerved each arm,

Arch-mocker and mad Abbot of Misrule ! Though you were invincible only then.

For such thou art by day—but all night long

Thou pour’st a soft, sweet, pensive, solemn strain, Yet St. Jean was a deep, not a deadly blow; As if thou didst in this thy moonlight song

One struggle, and France all her faults repairs Like to the melancholy JACQUES complain, But the wild Farette, and the stern Carrot Musing on falsehood, folly, vice, and wrong,

Ire dupes, and ruin thy fate and theirs ! And sighing for thy motiey coat again.

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The author of « Hadad” was descended from Mr. Hillhouse was born in New Haven, on an ancient and honourable Irish family, in the the twenty-sixth of September, 1789. The home county of Derry, and his ancestors emigrated to of such parents, and the society of the intelligent this country and settled in Connecticut in 1720. circle they drew about them, (of which President A high order of intellect seems to have been their Dwight was the most distinguished ornament,) right of inheritance, for in every generation we was well calculated to cherish and cultivate his find their name prominent in the political history | peculiar tastes. In boyhood he was remarkable of the state. The grandfather of the poet, the for great activity and excellence in all manly and Honourable William Hillhorse, was for more athletic sports, and for a peculiarly gentlemanly than fifty years employed in the public service, as deportment. At the age of fifteen he entered Yale a representative, as a member of the council, and College, and in 1808 he was graduated, with high in other offices of trust and honour. His father, reputation as a scholar. From his first junior the Honourable JAMES HillhoUSE, who died in exhibition, he had been distinguished for the ele1833, after filling various offices in his native gance and good taste of his compositions. Upon state, and being for three years a member of the taking his second degree, he delivered an oration House of Representatives, was in 1794 elected to on « The Education of a Poct," so full of beauty, the Senate of the United States, where for sixteen that it was long and widely remembered, and inyears he acted a leading part in the politics of the duced an appointment by the Phi Beta Kappa L country. His wife, the mother of the subject of Society, (not much in the habit of selecting juvathis sketch, was the daughter of Colonel MELANC nile writers,) to deliver a poem before them at TioN WOOLSEY, of Dosoris, Long Island.

She

their next anniversary. It was on this occasion was a woman distinguished alike for mental su that he wrote «The Judgment,” which was properiority, and for feminine softness, purity, and nounced before that society at the commencement delicacy of character. Although educated in re of 1812. tirement, and nearly self-taught, her son was accus A more difficult theme, or one requiring loftier tomed to say, when time had given value to his powers, could not have been selected. The reopinions, that she possessed the most elegant mind flecting mind regards this subject in accordance he had ever met with; and much of the nice dis with some preconceived views. That Mr. Hillcrimination, and the finer and more delicate ele horse felt this difficulty, is evident from a remark ments of his own character, were an inheritance in his preface, that in selecting this theme, she from her. Among the little occasional pieces exposes his work to criticism on account of its which he wrote entirely for the family circle, theology, as well as its poetry; and they who was one composed on visiting her birth-place, after think the former objectionable, will not easily be her death, which I have been permitted* to make pleased with the latter.” Other poets, too, had public.

essayed their powers in describing the events of

the Last Day. The public voice, however, has “As vonder frith, round green Dosoris roll'd,

decided, that among all the poems on this great Reflects the parting glories of the skies, Or quivering glances, like the paly gold,

subject, that of Mr. Huluotse stands unequalled. ! When on its breast the midnight moonbeam lies; His object was, “to present such a view of the

last grand spectacle as seemed the most susceptible ! “ Thus, though bedimm'd by many a changeful year, of poetical embellishment;” and rarely have we The hues of feeling varied in her cheek,

seen grandeur of conception and simplicity of deThat, brightly flush'd, or glittering with a tear, Seem'd the rapt poet's, or the seraph's meek.

sign so admirably united. His representation of

the scene is vivid and energetic; while the man“ I have fulfill'd her charge,-denr scenes, adieu: ner in which he has grouped and contrasted the The tender charge to see her natal spot;

countless array of characters of every age, displays My tears have flow'd, while busy Fancy drew

the highest degree of artistic skill. Each character i The picture of her childhood's happy lot.

he summons up appears before us, with historic “Would I could paint the ever-varying grace,

costume and features faithfully preserved, and we The ethereal glow and lustre of her mind,

seem to gaze upon him as a reality, and not merely Which own'd not time, nor bore of age a trace,

as the bold imagery of the poet. Pure as the sunbeam, gentle and retined!"

“For o|1 appear'd

As in their days of earthly pride; the clank * I am indebted for the materials for this bingraphy to Ofstrel announced the warrior, and the robe the poet's intimate friend, the Reverend WILLIAM IN

Of Tyrian lustre spoke the blood of kings" GRAHAM KIPP, Rector of St. Paul's Church, in Albany,

His description of the last setting of the sun mu New York, who kindly consented to write out the character of the poet, as he appeared at home, and as none

the west, and the dreamer's farewell to the erenbut his associates could know him, for this work. ing star, as it was fading forever from his sight,

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are passages of beauty which it would be difficult | charm, possessed a character combining most beau" to find surpassed.

tifully the high endowments of literary genius, About this period Mr. Hillhouse passed three with all that is winning and brilliant in social life. years in Boston, preparing to engage in a mercan They who knew him, best in the sacred relations tile life. During the interruption of business which of his own fireside, will never cease to realize, that took place in consequence of the last war with in him their circle lost its greatest ornament. All England, he employed a season of leisure passed who were accustomed to meet his cordial greeting, at home, in the composition of several dramatic to listen to his fervid and eloquent conversation, pieces, of which • Demetria" and “Percy's Masque" to be delighted with the wit and vivacity of his best satisfied his own judgment. When peace was playful moments; to witness the grace and elerestored, he went to New York, and embarked in gance of his manners, the chivalric spirit, the commerce, to which, though at variance with his indomitable energy and high finish of the whole tastes, he devoted himself with fidelity and perse character, can tell how nobly he united the com

verance. In 1819, he visited Europe, and though bined attractions of the poet, the scholar, and the | the months passed there were a season of great perfect gentleman. Never, indeed, have we met

anxiety and business occupations, he still found with one who could pour forth more eloquently time to see much to enlarge his mind, and accu his treasures, drawn from the whole range of Engmulated stores of thought for future use. Among lish literature, or bring them to bear more adother distinguished literary men, from whom while mirably upon the passing occurrences of the day. in London he received attentions, was ZacARY Every syllable, too, which he uttered, conveyed MACAULAY, (father of the Hon. T. BABBINGTON the idea of a high-souled honour, which we assoMaciular,) who subsequently stated to some ciate more naturally with the days of old romance, American gentlemen, that “he considered Mr. than with these selfish, prosaic times. His were Hillhorse the most accomplished young man indeed -high thoughts, seated in a heart of courwith whom he was acquainted.” It was during tesy.'' his stay in England that “ Percy's Masque” was “ Hadad” was written in 1824, and printed in revised and published. The subject of this drama the following year. This has generally been is the successful attempt of one of the Percies, the esteemed HulluOUSE's masterpiece. As a sacred son of Shakspeare's Hotspur, to recover his an drama, it is probably unsurpassed. The scene is in cestral home. The era chosen is a happy one for Judea, in the days of David ; and as the agency a poet. He is dealing with the events of an age of evil spirits is introduced, an opportunity is afwhere every thing to us is clothed with a roman forded to bring forward passages of strange subtic interest, which invests even the most common limity and wildness. For a work like this, Hillevery-day occurrences of life.

HOUSE was peculiarly qualified. A most intimate “They carved at the meal

acquaintance with the Scriptures enabled him to With gloves of steel,

introduce each minute detail in perfect keeping And they drank the red wine through the helmet barr'd." with historical truth, while from the same study of this opportunity he fully availed himself, in he seems also to have imbibed the lofty thoughts, the picture he has here given us of the days of and the majestic style of the ancient Hebrew chivalry. As a mere work of art, “ Percy's prophets. Masque” is one of the most faultless in the lan In 1840, he collected, and published in two guage. If subjected to scrutiny, it will bear the volumes, the works which at that time he was strictest criticism by which compositions of this willing to give to the world. In addition to those kind can be tried. We cannot detect the violation I have already mentioned, was · Demetria,” a of a single rule which should be observed in the domestic tragedy, now first revised and printed, construction of a tragedy. When, therefore, it after an interval of twenty-six years since its first was republished in this country, it at once gave composition, and several orations, delivered in New its author an elevated rank as a dramatic poet. Haven, on public occasions, or before literary

In 1822, Mr. HILLHOUSE was united in mar societies in other parts of the country. The riage to CORNELIA, eldest daughter of Isaac Law manly eloquence of the latter, is well calculated RESCE, of New York. He shortly afterward to add the reputation of an accomplished orareturned to his native town, and there, at his tor, to that which he already enjoyed as a poet. beautiful place, called Sachem's Wood, devoted These volumes contain nearly all that he left us. himself to the pursuits of a country gentleman

It is a mistake, however, to suppose that he passed and practical agriculturist. His taste extended his life merely as a literary man. The early part also to the arts with which poetry is allied; and of it was spent in the anxieties of business, while, in the embellishment of his residence, there was through all his days, literature, instead of being exhibited evidence of the refinement of its accom his occupation, was merely the solace and delight plished occupant. Here, with the exception of a of his leisure moments. few months of the winter, generally spent in New About this time his friends beheld, with anxiety, York, he passed the remainder of his life. “And the symptoms of failing health. For fifteen never,” remarks his friend, the Reverend Mr. Kupp, months, however, he lingered on, alternately cheer" has a domestic circle been anywhere gathered, ing their hearts by the prospect of recovery, and uniting within itself more of grace, and elegance, then causing them again to despond, as his weakord intellect. He who formed its centre and its ness increased. In the fall of 1840, he left home

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