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make proselytes, while all his arguments are directed against himself. His zeal and his logic are together irresistibly ludicrous, but there is nothing in the character unnatural, as it is common for men who read more than they think, or attempt to discuss questions they do not understand, to use arguments which refute the positions they wish to defend. The meeting ends with a riot, in which McFixgal is seized, tried by the mob, convicted of violent toryism, and tarred and feathered. On being set at liberty, he assembles his friends around him in his cellar, and harangues them until they are dispersed by the whigs, when he escapes to Boston, and the poem closes. These are all the important incidents of the story, yet it is never tedious, and few commence reading it who do not follow it to the end and regret its termination. Throughout the three cantos the wit is never separated from the character of the hero.

After the removal of TRUMBULL to Hartford a social club was established in that city, of which Bialow, Colonel HUMPARIES, Doctor LEMUEL Hopkins, and our author, were members. They produced numerous essays on literary, moral, and political subjects, none of which attracted more applause than a series of papers in imitation of the “ Rolliad,” (a popular English work, ascribed to Fox, SHERIDAN, and their associates,) entitled ** American Antiquities” and “Extracts from the Anarchiad," originally printed in the New Haven

Gazette for 1786 and 1787. These papers have never been collected, but they were republished from one end of the country to the other in the periodicals of the time, and were supposed to have had considicable influence on public taste and opinions, and by the boldness of their satire to have kept in abeyance the leaders of political disorganization and infidel philosophy. TRUMBULL also aided BanLow in the preparation of his edition of Watts's version of the Psalms, and wrote several of the paraphrases in that work which have been generally attributed to the author of «The Columbiad."

TRUMBULL was a popular lawyer, and was appointed to various honourable offices by the people and the government. From 1795, in consequence of ill health, he declined all public employment, and was for several years an invalid. At length, recovering his customary vigour, in 1800 he was elected a member of the legislature, and in the year following a judge of the Superior Court. În 1808 he was appointed a judge of the Supreme Court of Errors, and held the office until 1819, when he finally retired from public life. His poems were collected and published in 1820, and in 1825 he removed to Detroit, where his daughter, the wife of the Honourable WILLIAM WOOD BRIDGE, now a member of the United States Senate for Michigan, was residing, and died there in May, 1831, in the eighty-first year

66

of his age.

ODE TO SLEEP.

III.
Descend, and, graceful, in thy hand,

With thee bring thy magic wand,
I.

And thy pencil, taught to glow

In all the hues of Iris' bow. Coxe, gentle Sleep!

And call thy bright, aerial train,
Balm of my wounds and softener of my woes,

Each fairy form and visionary shade,
And lull my weary heart in sweet repose,
And bid my sadden'd soul forget to weep,

That in the Elysian land of dreams,

The flower-enwoven banks along, And close the tearful eye;

Or bowery maze, that shades the purple streams, While dewy eve, with solemn sweep,

Where gales of fragrance breathe the enamour'd Hath drawn her fleecy mantle o'er the sky,

In more than mortal charms array'd, (song, And chased afar, adown the ethereal way, Tbe din of bustling care and gaudy eye of day.

People the airy vales and rovel in thy reign.

IV.
II.

But drive afar the haggard crew,
Come, but thy leaden sceptre leave,

That int the guilt-encrimson'd bed, Thy opiate rod, thy poppies pale,

Or dim before the frenzied view Dipp'd in the torpid fount of Lethe's stream, Stalk with slow and sullen tread;

That shroud with night each intellectual beam, While furies, with infernal glare, And quench the immortal fire, in deep Oblivion's | Wave their pale torches through the troubled air; wave.

And deep from Darkness' in most womb,
Yet draw the thick, impervious veil

Sad groans dispart the icy tomb,
O’er all the scenes of tasted wo;

And bid the sheeted spectre rise,
Command each cypress shade to flee; Mid shrieks and fiery shapes and deadly fantasies.

Between this toil-worn world and me
Display thy curtain broad, and hide the realms be-

See a note on this subject appended to the Life of low.

BARLOW in this volunie.

D

V.

Ascend, my soul, to nobler themes

Of happier import and sublimer strain. Come and loose the mortal chain,

Rising from this sphere of night, That binds to clogs of clay the ethereal wing; Pierce yon blue vault, ingemm’d with golden fires: And give the astonish'd soul to rove,

Beyond where Saturn's languid car retires, Where never sunbeam stretch'd its wide domain; Or Sirius keen outvies the solar ray, And hail her kindred forms above,

To worlds from every dross terrene refined, In fields of uncreated spring,

Realms of the pure, ethereal mind, Aloft where realms of endless glory rise,

Warm with the radiance of unchanging day: And rapture paints in gold the landscape of the Where cherub-forms and essences of light, skies.

With holy song and heavenly rite,
VI.

From rainbow clouds their strains immortal pour;

An earthly guest, in converse high, Then through the liquid fields we'll climb,

Explore the wonders of the sky, Where Plato treads empyreal air,

From orb to orb with guides celestial soar, Where daring Homer sits sublime,

And take, through heaven's wide round, the uniAnd Pindar rolls his fiery car;

versal tour;
Above the cloud-encircled hills,
Where high Parnassus lifts his airy head,

X.
And Helicon's melodious rills
Flow gently through the warbling glade ;

And find that mansion of the blest,
And all the Nine, in deathless choir combined, Where, rising ceaseless from this lethal stage,
Dissolve in harmony the enraptured mind,

Heaven's favourite sons, from earthly chains reAnd every bard, that tuned the immortal lay,

leased, Basks in the ethereal blaze, and drinks celestial In happier Eden pass the eternal age. day.

The newborn soul beholds the angelic face

Of holy sires, that throng the blissful plain,
VII.

Or meets his consort's loved embrace,
Or call to my transported eyes

Or clasps the son, so lost, so mourn'd in vain.
Happier scenes, for lovers made;

There, charm'd with each endearing wile, Bid the twilight grove arise,

Maternal fondness greets her infant's smile ; Lead the rivulet through the glade.

Long-sever'd friends, in transport doubly dear, In some flowering arbour laid,

Unite and join the interminable trainWhere opening roses taste the honey'd dew,

And, hark! a well-known voice I hear And plumy songsters carol through the shade,

I spy my sainted friend! I meet my Howe* again!
Recall my long-lost wishes to my view.
Bid Time's inverted glass return

XI.
The scenes of bliss, with hope elate,
And hail the once expected morn,

Hail, sacred shade! for not to dust consign'd,

Lost in the grave, thine ardent spirit lies,
And burst the iron bands of fate
Graced with all her virgin charms,

Nor fail'd that warm benevolence of mind

To claim the birthright of its native skies.
Attractive smiles and past, responsive flame,

What radiant glory and celestial grace,
Restore my ***** to my arms,

Immortal meed of picty and praise !
Just to her vows and faithful to her fame.

Come to my visions, friendly shade,
VIII.

'Gainst all assaults my wayward weakness arm,

Raise my low thoughts, my nobler wishes aid, Hymen's torch, with hallow'd fire,

When passions rage, or vain allurements charm; Rising beams the auspicious ray.

The pomp of learning and the boast of art, Wake the dance, the festive lyre

The glow, that fires in genius' boundless range, Warbling sweet the nuptial lay;

The pride, that wings the keen, satiric dart,
Gay with beauties, once alluring,

And hails the triumph of revenge.
Bid the bright enchantress move,

Teach me, like thee, to feel and know
Eyes that languish, smiles of rapture,

Our humble station in this vale of wo,
And the rosy blush of love.

Twilight of life, illumed with feeble ray,
On her glowing breast reclining,

The infant dawning of eternal day ;
Mid that paradise of charms,

With heart expansive, through this scene improve Every blooming grace combining,

The social soul of harmony and love;
Yielded to my circling arms,

To heavenly hopes alone aspire and prize
I clasp the fair, and, kindling at the view,

The virtue, knowledge, bliss, and glory of the Press to my heart the dear deceit, and think the

skies. transport true.

IX.
Hence, false, delusive dreams,
Fantastic hopes and mortal passions vain

* Rev. JOSEPH JIOWE, pastor of a church in Boston ; some time a fellow-tutor with the author at Yale College. He died in 1775. The conclusion of the ode was varied, by inserting this tribute of affection.

THE COUNTRY CLOWN.*

BRED in distant woods, the clown
Brings all his country airs to town;
The old address, with awkward grace,
That bows with all-averted face;
The half-heard compliments, whose note
Is swallow'd in the trembling throat;
The stiffen'd gait, the drawling tone,
By which his native place is known;
The blush, that looks, by vast degrees,
Too much like modesty to please ;
The proud displays of awkward dress,
That all the country fop express :
The suit right gay, though much belated,
Whose fashion 's superannuated;
The watch, depending far in state,
Whose iron chain might form a grate
The silver buckle, dread to view,
O'ershadowing all the clumsy shoe;
The white-gloved hand, that tries to peep
From ruffie, full five inches deep;
With fifty odd ailairs beside,
The foppishness of country pride.

Poor Dick! though first thy airs provoke
The obstre perous laugh and scornful joke,
Doom'd all the ridicule to stand,
While each gay dunce shall lend a hand;
Yet let not scorn dismay thy hope
To shine a witling and a fop.
Blest impudence the prize shall gain,
And bid thee sigh no more in vain.
Thy varied dress shall quickly show
At once the spendthrift and the beau.
With pert address and noisy tongue,
That scorns the fear of prating wrong
'Mongst listening coxcombs shalt thou shine,
And every voice shall echo thine.

To tailors half themselves they owe,
Who make the clothes that make the beau.

Lo! from the seats, where, fops to bless,
Learn'd artists fix the forms of dress,
And sit in consultation grave
On folded skirt, or straiten'd sleeve,
The coxcomb trips with sprightly haste,
In all the flush of modern taste ;
Oft turning, if the day be fair,
To view his shadow's graceful air ;
Well pleased, with eager eye runs o'er
The laced suit glittering gay before ;*
The ruffle, where from opend vest
The rubied brooch adorns the breast;
The coat, with lengthening waist behind,
Whose short skirts dangle in the wind ;
The modish hat, whose breadth contains
The measure of its owner's brains;
The stockings gay, with various hues;
The little toe-encircling shoes;
The cane, on whose carved top is shown
A head, just emblem of his own;
While, wrapp'd in self, with lofty stride,
His little heart elate with pride,
He struts in all the joys of show
That tailors give, or beaux can know.

And who for beauty need repine, That's sold at every barber's sign; Nor lies in features or complexion, But curls disposed in meet direction, With strong pomatum's grateful odour, And quantum sufficit of powder ? These charms can shed a sprightly grace O’er the dull eye and clumsy face; While the trim dancing-master's art Shall gestures, trips, and bows impart, Give the gay piece its final touches, And lend those airs, would lure a duchess.

Thus shines the form, nor aught behind, The gifts that deck the coxcomb's mind; Then hear the daring muse disclose The sense and piety of beaux.

To grace his speech, let France bestow A set of compliments for show. Land of politeness! that affords The treasure of new-fangled words, And endless quantities disburses Of bows and compliments and curses ; The soft address, with airs so sweet, That cringes at the ladies' feet; The pert, vivacious, play-house style, That wakes the gay assembly's smile; Jests that his brother beaux may hit, And pass with young coquettes for wit, And prized by fops of true discerning, Outface the pedantry of learning. Yet learning too shall lend its aid To fill the coxcomb's spongy head; And studious oft he shall peruse The labours of the modern muse. From endless loads of novels gain Soft, simpering tales of amorous pain,

THE FOP.

How blest the brainless fop, whose praise
Is doom'd to grace these happy days,
When well-bred vice can genius teach,
And fame is placed in folly's reach;
Impertinence all tastes can hit,
And every rascal is a wit.
The lowest dunce, without despairing,
May learn the true sublime of swearing;
Learn the nice art of jests obscene,
While ladies wonder what they mean;
The heroism of brazen lungs,
The rhetoric of eternal tongues ;
While whim usurps the name of spirit,
And impudence takes place of merit,
And every money'd clown and dunce
Commences gentleman at once.

For now, by easy rules of trade,
Mechanic gentlemen are made !
From handicrafts of fashion born;
Those very arts so much their scorn.

* From the " Progress of Dulness.'

From the same.

* This passage alludes to the mode of dress then in fasbion.

With mimic drollery of grimace,
And pleased impertinence of face,
'Gainst virtue arm their feeble forces,
And sound the charge in peals of curses.

Blest be his ashes ! under ground
If any particles be found,
Who, friendly to the coxcomb race,
First taught those arts of commonplace,
Those topics fine, on which the beau
May all his little wits bestow,
Secure the simple laugh to raise,
And gain the dunce's palm of praise.
For where's the theme that beaux could hit
With least similitude of wit,
Did not religion and the priest
Supply materials for the jest;
The poor in purse, with metals vile
For current coins, the world beguile;
The poor in brain, for genuine wit
Pass off a viler counterfeit;
While various thus their doom appears,
These lose their souls, and those their ears ;
The want of fancy, whim supplies,
And native humour, mad caprice;
Loud noise for argument goes off,
For mirth polite, the ribald's scoff;
For sense, lewd drolleries entertain us,
And wit is mimick'd by profaneness.

With double meanings, neat and handy,
From ROCHESTER and TRISTRAM SHANDY.*
The blundering aid of weak reviews,
That forge the fetters of the muse,
Shall give him airs of criticising
On faults of books, he ne'er set eyes on.
The magazines shall teach the fashion,
And commonplace of conversation,
And where his knowledge fails, afford
The aid of many a sounding word.

Then, lest religion he should need,
Of pious Hume he'll learn his creed,
By strongest demonstration shown,
Evince that nothing can be known;
Take arguments, unvex’d by doubt,
On Voltaire's trust, or go without;
'Gainst Scripture rail in modern lore,
As thousand fools have rail'd before;
Or pleased a nicer art display
To expound its doctrines all away,
Suit it to modern tastes and fashions
By various notes and emendations ;
The rules the ten commands contain,
With new provisos well explain ;
Prove all religion was but fashion,
Beneath the Jewish dispensation.
A ceremonial law, deep hooded
In types and figures long exploded;
Its stubborn fetters all unfit
For these free times of gospel light,
This rake's millennium, since the day
When Sabbaths first were done away ;
Since pander-conscience holds the door,
And lewdness is a vice no more;
And shame, the worst of deadly fiends,
On virtue, as its squire, attends.

Alike his poignant wit displays
The darkness of the former days,
When men the paths of duty sought,
And own'd what revelation taught;
Ere human reason grew so bright,
Men could see all things by its light,
And summond Scripture to appear,
And stand before its bar severe,
To clear its page from charge of fiction,
And answer pleas of contradiction;
Ere miracles were held in scorn,
Or BOLING BROKE, or HUME were born.

And now the fop, with great energy,
Levels at priestcraft and the clergy,
At holy cant and godly prayers,
And bigots' hypocritic airs ;
Musters each veteran jest to aici,
Calls piety the parson's trade;
Cries out 't is shame, past all abiding,
The world should still be so priest-ridden;
Applauds free thought that scorns control.
And generous nobleness of soul,
That acts its pleasure, good or evil,
And fears nor deity nor devil.
These standing topics never fail
To prompt our little wits to rail,

CHARACTER OF McFINGAL.*

When Yankees, skill'd in martial rule,
First put the British troops to school ;
Instructed them in warlike trade,
And new manæuvres of parade ;
The true war-dance of Yankee-reels,
And manual exercise of heels;
Made them give up, like saints complete,
The arm of flesh, and trust the feet,
And work, like Christians undissembling,
Salvation out by fear and trembling;
Taught Percy fashionable races,
And modern modes of Chevy-Chaces :t
From Boston, in his best array,
Great SQUIRE McFingal took his way,
And, graced with ensigns of renown,
Steer'd homeward to his native town.

His high descent our heralds trace
To Ossian's famed Fingalian race;
For though their name some part may lack,
Old Fingal spelt it with a Mac;
Which great McPherson, with submission,
We hope will add the next edition.

His fathers flourish'd in the Highlands Of Scotia's fog-benighted island; Whence gain'd our squire two gifts by right, Rebellion and the second-sight.

From" McFingal." + Lord Percy commanded the party that was first opposed by the Americans at Lexington. This allusion to the family renown of Chevy-Chace arose from the precipitate manner of his quitting the field of battle, and returning to Boston.

* STERNE's Tristram Shandy was then in the highest vogue, and in the zenith of its transitory reputation.

Of these the first, in ancient days,
Had gain'd the noblest palms of praise ;
'Gainst kings stood forth, and many a crown'd
With terror of its might confounded; [head
Till rose a king with potent charm
His foes by goodness to disarm;
Whom every Scot and Jacobite
Straight fell in love with-at first sight;
Whose gracious speech, with aid of pensions,
Hash'd down all murmurs of dissensions,
And with the sound of potent metal,
Brought all their blust'ring swarms to settle ;
Who rain'd his ministerial mannas,
Till loud sedition sung hosannas;
The good lords-bishops and the kirk
United in the public work;
Rebellion from the northern regions,
With Bure and MANSFIELD swore allegiance,
And all combined to raze, as nuisance,
Of church and state, the constitutions;
Pull down the empire, on whose ruins
They meant to edify their new ones;
Enslave the American wildernesses,
And tear the provinces in pieces.
For these our squire, among the valiant'st,
Employ'd his time, and tools, and talents;
And in their cause, with manly zeal,
Used his first virtue-to rebel ;
And found this new rebellion pleasing
As his old king-destroying treason.

Yor less avail'd his optic sleight,
And Scottish gift of second-sight.
No ancient sibyl, famed in rhyme,
Saw deeper in the womb of time;
No block in old Dodona's grove
Could ever more oracular prove.
Nor only saw he all that was,
But much that never came to pass ;
Whereby all prophets far outwent he,
Though former days produced a plenty :
For any man with half an eye
What stands before him may espy ;
But optics sharp it needs, I ween,
To see what is not to be seen.
As in the days of ancient fame,
Prophets and poets were the same,
Ind all the praise that poets gain
Is but for what they invent and feign:
So gain'd our squire his fame by seeing
Such things as never would have being ;
Whence he for oracles was grown
The very tripod of his town.
Gazettes no sooner rose a lie in,
But straight he fell to prophesying;
Made dreadful slaughter in his course,
O'erthrew provincials, foot and horse;
Brought armies o'er by sudden pressings
Of Hanoverians, Swiss, and Hessians ;*

Feasted with blood his Scottish clan,
And hang'd all rebels to a man ;
Divided their estates and pelf,
And took a goodly share himself.
All this, with spirit energetic,
He did by second-sight prophetic.

Thus stored with intellectual riches,
Skill'd was our squire in making speeches,
Where strength of brains united centres
With strength of lungs surpassing Stentor's.
But as some muskets so contrive it,
As oft to miss the mark they drive at,
And, though well aim'd at duck or plover,
Bear wide and kick their owners over :
So fared our squire, whose reas'ning toil
Would often on himself recoil,
And so much injured more his side,
The stronger arguments he applied ;
As old war-elephants, dismay'd,
Trod down the troops they came to aid,
And hurt their own side more in battle
Than less and ordinary cattle :
Yet at town meetings ev'ry chief
Pinn'd faith on great McFingal's sleeve
And, as he motioned, all, by rote,
Raised sympathetic hands to vote.

The town, our hero's scene of action, Had long been torn by feuds of faction; And as each party's strength prevails, It turn'd up different heads or tails ; With constant rattling, in a trice Show'd various sides, as oft as dice: As that famed weaver, wife to Ulysses, By night each day's work pick'd in pieces And though she stoutly did bestir her, Its finishing was ne'er the nearer : So did this town, with steadfast zeal, Weave cobwebs for the public weal; Which when completed, or before, A second vote in pieces tore. They met, made speeches full long-winded, Resolved, protested, and rescinded; Addresses sign'd, then chose committees, To stop all drinking of Bohea-teas; With winds of doctrine veer'd about, And turn'd all Whig committees out. Meanwhile our hero, as their head, In pomp the Tory faction led, Still following, as the squire should please Successive on, like files of geese.

EXTREME HUMANITY.*

Thus GAGE's arms did fortune bless
With triumph, safety, and success :
But mercy is without dispute
His first and darling attribute;
So great, it far outwent, and conquer'd,
His military skill at Concord.
There, when the war he chose to wage,
Shone the benevolence of Gage;

This prophecy, like some of the prayers of Homer's heroes,was but half accomplished. The Hanoverians, &c., Inderd came over, and much were they feasted with dloud ; but the hanging of the rebels and the dividing, their estates remain unfulfilled. This, however, cannot

be the fault of the hero, but rather the British minister, I who left off the war before the work was completed.

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* From "McFingal.”

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