Virtue's mild light, and Glory's brighter beams,
The Goth, the Vandal came, with barb'rous rage,
To scatter darkness o'er th' historic page,
With Ruin's torch to guide their fierce career,
And desolation rising in their rear :

Fair Science from her throne of light was hurl'd,
And a long night of folly curs'd the world.

AGAIN behold the Sun of Science, shine,
To bless the nations with its beams divine:
On Avon's banks, in Britain's favor'd isle,
At Shakspeare's birth the wond'ring Muses smile;
The swans of Avon warble strains of joy,
Each tuneful sister claims the rosy boy,
In holy rapture dwells upon his charms,
And clasps him in her love-delighted arms.
In stern Eliza's reign, this wond'rous birth
Of bright ey'd Fancy, blest the adoring earth :
Britannia hail'd the herald of her fame,

His brows encircled with a lambent flame,

By Genius lit, who claim'd him for her own,
And proudly plac'd him on her azure throne.
Thence through the dismal night of Gothic gloom,
His keen eye pierc'd the shades of Greece and Rome;
Beheld in Timon's generous despair,

What fiend-like forms the mask of friendship wear!
Made Cæsar bleed afresh at Pompey's shrine,
And Brutus tremble at the wrath divine:
To Romeo's love, and Juliet's constant flame,
Gave the sweet odors of undying fame,
Taught faithful hearts this sacred truth to know,
If Heaven is love, that love is Heaven below:
And backward glancing, shew'd, to England's shame,
How bloody Richard stain'd her rising fame;
Saw fetter'd Clarence visit ocean's caves,
In dreams of woe, and clasp beneath the waves
The horrid forms that pointed to his doom-
The shroud, the gory axe, and yawning tomb!
On fallen Wolsey shed the beams of peace,
Bid, with his griefs, his wild ambition cease,
Taught him his God as truly to adore,
As he had vainly worship'd man before!
Whene'er his wand he way'd, there rose to view,
The magic scenes his fancy only knew ;

"Twas his, with forms unknown, to grace the stage, And charm, like Æschylus, a wond'ring age :

But who can paint his glories as they shine?

The hand, that does it truly, is divine !

THUS, like the sun, that, bursting through the storm, Bids the dark mist no more the sky deform,

勇

Britannia saw the Drama rise refin'd,

The glowing birth of Shakspeare's mighty mind!
Till, lur'd by fame, her later worthies shone,

And snatch'd from glory's brows, to deck their own,

Unfading wreaths of brilliant ever-green ;

Yet not so bright as Avon's rosy Queen

Has shed around her sweet bard's honor'd tomb,

There in eternal beauty still to bloom,
And from their dewy leaves each morn to shed
The tears of fragrance o'er his hallow'd bed.

THREE ages saw the Drama's light sublime, Shed its mild influence o'er Britannia's clime, When from wild wastes, dark streams and gloomy floods,

Columbia rose amid the Natal gods,

Whom nations claim, the guardians of their cause,

Their sacred rights, and liberties, and laws;

She tow'ring rose, and bade the old world view
Bright scenes of beauty rising in the new :
From Orient climes receiv'd their arts divine,
The Tragic, Comic Muse, the sacred Nine ;
Whate'er was good and useful, just and fair,
She wisely chose, and left the worthless there.

AND lo! where Hudson's wave majestic glides
O'er fair Albania's plains in vernal tides;
Prais'd be the gen'rous flame that warms their hearts,
Whose bounty flows to aid the rising arts;
This modest Temple, sacred to thy name,
Apollo! father of poetic flame!

Rises in decent dignity and pride,

To genius, wit, taste, eloquence, allied;
And Beauty's charms for here shall Beauty bring,
The choicest flowers that deck her rosy spring.
Thus shall propitious stars reward our toil,

For know, the cause that's grac'd by Beauty's smile,
Has sacred Truth for its exalted aim-

And truth approving who shall dare to blame !.

BUT ere my Muse, great CooкE! her flight has stay'd,

Shall she not rev'rence thy departed shade!
Thou Star of Tragic fame! whose rising beam
Gilded the fluent wave of Liffey's stream,
Then spread its light to Albion's classic shore,
That Garrick's shade might wonder and adore!
Till proud, exulting in the MILLION's smile,
It spurn'd the limits of Britannia's isle !
Wide o'er th' Atlantic pour'd its orient blaze,
And made Columbia mourn its parting rays!
Thus like the stem that decks its native soil,
Emblem of Beauty's bloom and Mercy's smile,
The shamrock ever-green-three climes did share
The LIVING Light of Erin's TRAGIC STAR!
Oh! Cook! great, good and generous was thy aim,” ́
And unborn ages shall embalm thy name !

86 Thy frailties, buried with thy bones," no more
Thy foes rejoice in, or thy foes deplore,

While the great virtues Heaven to thee did give,
In mem❜ry's fond, adoring eye shall live.
Where'er the Tragic Muse shall chance to stray,
Thy shade, belov'd companion of her way,
Shall still attend, and light the holy tear,
To grace the virgin's, matron's, hero's bier.

AND now, ye gen'rous, ye expecting throng,
To this fair fane by fancy borne along ;
Ye critics keen, well skill'd in verbal wars,
Wit's brilliant spirits-Beauty's brightest stars!
Lawyers, who scorn to plead a villain's cause;
Merchants, Mechanics, rul'd by honor's laws;
Soldiers, whose valor burns with steady flame,
Ardent to heal your country's wounded fame;
Ye whom no danger, fear, or " doubt" appals,
To shun the battle's blaze when glory calls;
Brave tars, whose lightning gilds old ocean's caves,
Whose thunder calms the roaring of his waves,
Whose blazing vengeance, on the stormy deep,
Makes proud Britannia her lost laurels weep,
Snatches, to grace Columbia's rising name,
Old Neptune's trident, and old England's fame!
Ye who at Hamilton's lamented name,
Feel more than sympathy's congenial flame
Your Clinton's loss in filial sorrow mourn,
And hallow with your tears the hero's urn;

In glory's visions who delight to rove,
Beside the sainted Shade of Vernon's grove!
Decaturs, Wools, Van Renss'lers, born to save,
In fields of blood, or on the bloody wave,
The trophies your inmortal fathers won,
Bunker's pure glory-Monmouth's proud renown!
Whose deeds the Nereids of the deep shall sing,
When o'er the mountain waves their echoes ring,
Or down in coral caves they meet to mourn,
The brave who ne'er shall to their friends return;

Who first on Niagara's hoary flood,
Where gallant Nelson pour'd his patriot blood,
And gen'rous Cuyler, urg'd by war's alarms,
Flew to expire in bright-ey'd glory's arms→→
Amid Bellona's flame, sublimely bore
Columbia's eagle to the hostile shore;
Perch'd him in thunder on the rampant wall,
T'exult-to weep-at Brock's untimely fall!
Ye good, brave, cheerful, witty, wise and gay,
Choice volunteers, where Thalia leads the way,
Or where Melpomene extends her arms,
And wins ye with her sad, celestial charms-
Ye friends of worth, from youth to rev'rend age,
Whose presence smiles upon our Infant Stage,
One wish this grateful heart would fain disclose,
"Tis sweet-'tis sad-it falters as its flows :
With scenes as bright as blissful Eden's bowers
May guardian angels crown your fleeting hours-
Pure be your joys as Vesta's sacred flame,
The joys of Friendship, Freedom, Love, and Fame!
And when your lamp of life, no longer bright,
On fate's dark ocean sheds its glim'ring light,
When the last respiration seals your doom,
May love, may glory light ye to the tomb !

Correspondence.

Those of our patrons, who subscribed for the former series of the Polyanthos, are informed that this number completes the term of their subscription. To prevent all misunderstanding or disappointment as to the receipt of this work by distant subscribers, we recommend attention to the conditions of publication, printed on the last page of the cover.

The length of our Theatrical Review has excluded the usual Monthly Miscellany.

We shall never envy the honors which wit and learning obtain in any other cause, if we can be numbered among the writers who have given ardor to virtue and confidence to truth. Dr. Johnson.

BIOGRAPHY.

SKETCH OF THE LIFE AND CHARACTER OF THE
HON. DAVID COBB..

An impartial narration, at all times requisite in giving the history of a public character, is yet more important, when we undertake the biography of the living. In sketching living characters, one feels a greater fear of incurring the charge of flattery or panegyric, than of provoking the censures of the world. For we do not bring a man before the public to excite honorable notice, unless his talents and services entitle him to grateful recollection. And a bare recital of his virtues may lead the stranger to imagine, that the eulogium was at least in part exaggeration. But we can assure our readers we mean no labored panegyric in the present article. In truth, a concise relation of material events, a general view of predominant attributes, are all our aim, in the biographical sketches we admit in this publication.

The HON. DAVID COBB, whose likeness is given in our present number, was born at Taunton, in the county of Bristol, State of Massachusetts, A. D. 1748, and received the honors of Harvard college in 1766. At the university he was distinguished by strength of mind, decision of character,

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