1

HOPE.

THO', Celia, the clouds of adversity frown,
And deaden the spirit that leads us to fame,→→
Tho' reason may prompt us the plan to disown,
And despair be at hand to extinguish the flame ;—
Yet nature persists, and attach'd to her views,
She disdains to forego what has charm'd her so long;
Where the object forbids, the the image pursues,
And HOPE still attends to conduct us along.

Thus pleas'd by those beauties which taught me to sigh,
And enamour'd of smiles that affected my heart,
'Twas in vain that reflection her strength would apply,
Tho' Celia, with coldness, had bade me depart:
Tho' her frowns fhould command all my sorrows to flow,
And my pleasures be chang'd into anguish and cares,
Still fancy will raise the dark curtains of woe,

And faithlefsly brighten the source of my tears.

Yet tell me, my fair, is thy nature at ease,

When thy smiles have deserted their charming domain;-
When pity forsakes thee and scorns to appease
Thy honest Amyntor, ah! pleading in vain?
Then finish thy triumph and banish its pride,
And all the allurements that vanity charm:
Advise with thine heart- to that heart are allied
A goodness to sooth it-a friendship to warm.
That goodness will learn thee to feel for my woes,
And heal the sa pains which imbitter my rest,
And friendship, more kindly imprefs'd with my vows,
Will cherish a pafsion so frankly confefs'd:
Then goodness and friendship uniting in zeal,

And kindling the bosom by which they are own'd,
Thy heart will subdue and its softness reveal,

And thus fhall my love with its wishes be crown'd.
Then HOPE must remain-'tis cemented with love-
And still fhall that pafsion its triumph maintain;
I swear from my breast it can never remove,

While gooders and friendship fhall rivet the chain;
And despair now rejected fhall loosen its thorn,

Nor e'er can my quiet its tortures annoy,
While beams of compassion thine eyes can adorn,
Or while thy sweet bosom can heave with a sigh.

May nature and art then aisist me to please,

And gain for my bosom the raptures of love!
May Venus instruct me some moment to seize,
When I find with my Celia the heart of her dove!

To be blefs'd, is to blefs, to be happy, be kind,
To love-is to feel for such sorrows as mine;
Be kind, then, be happy, let love be combin'd-

And the morn of my blifs fhall apprize thee of thine. AMYNTOR.

TO THE VIOLET.

AND shall the muse to thee her praise deny,
Thou best, thou most diminutive of flow'rs?
For where can nature through her wide domain,
Boast other odours half so sweet as thine ?
What! fhall I SOPHY scorn, 'cause SOPHY's small?
Tho' small the be, is fhe not still a gem
Which worlds of mafsy gold could never buy?
You, too, ye violets! might I ever wear,
Ev'n as I wear my SOPHY in my heart!
Tho' the strip'd tulip, and the blushing rose,
The polyanthus broad with golden eye,
The full carnation, and the lily tall,
Display their beauties on the gay parterre
In costly gardens, where th' unlicens'd feet
Of rustics tread not, yet that lavish hand
Which scatters violets under every thorn,
Forbids that sweets like these fhould be confin'd
Within the limits of the rich man's wall.
So fares it in the world: albeit, we see
Some gewgaws which the great alone pofsefs,
Whate'er is solid good is free to all.

Let grandeur keep its own!-this fragrant flow'r
Was kindly given by nature to regale
The wearied ploughman, as he home returns
At dusk of ev'ning to that dear abode

Where all his comfort, all his pleasure's lodg'd,
Young rosy cherubs, and a smiling wife.
If he may profit these, he'll jewels call
Those big round drops that stand upon his brow,
The badges of his labour and his love.

The thought that these from him their good derive,
And that that good hangs on his single arm,
Turns toil to luxury, to pleasure pain :

'Tis this that cools the sun's meridian blaze,
Bears up his heart, rebraces every nerve,
And sends fresh vigour to his fainting soul.
How far more blest industry is like this,
Than schemes of statesmen, who for private ends
Would plunge their country in a gulf of woes!
And know, ye great, howe'er ye may despise
The rustic's labour, 'tis to that we owe
A nation's happiness, a kingdom's wealth,
Wisdom in council, terror in our arms,
At home security, and fame abroad.

P. H.

LITERARY OLLA. No. VIII.

For the Bee.

On the causes of universal and perpetual reputation in writing and in eloquence.

AUTHORS and orators! I beg of you not to sneer or to shudder at the title of this little paper.

Do not be afraid that I am about to mention your names, your books, or your speeches.

A frosty winter, my dear little friends, is at hand to finish our buzzing and stinging; but some of us will fall into amber, and be looked at with admiration for

ever.

The causes of universal and perpetual reputation in writing and in eloquence are to be looked for, in good sense, in adoption to the inexterminable principles of man's nature, in the grandeur or utility of their ultimate objects, and in the arrangement and ornaments of language and style.

If on this platform ye examine the works of Thucydides, Shakespeare, Adam Smith, and Homer, ye will understand at once what I mean, if our understandings are formed upon the same Calibre; if not, my paper will be extremely fhort, and ye will soon get quit of my babbling.

I do not write for the admirers of meditations upon broomsticks, but for men of plain ordinary good sense, unfascinated by sublimity and beauty.

Great beauty of style, with curious arrangement, and ardent words applied to the imagination, will preserve books and orations in general esteem no longer than the languages in which they were delivered are living and

perspicuous; and I have no doubt that much of the beauty and effect of Cicero's orations are lost, not only from this circumstance, but from the variety of sound, and accent, and intonation, and affecting pauses in the pronunciation, with which we are unacquainted.

of

But Cicero owes the universality and the permanency his fame so much to the greatnefs of the theatre upon which he exhibited, that I do not consider his fame as a proper subject for the exhibition of the principles upon which I proceed. Were it not for this peculiarity in the situation of Cicero, the universality and permanency of his fame would go far to prove, that tinsel is better than gold, and that arrangement of words, and ornament of style, are sufficient to produce the grand effect, without the other requisites of my position.

For in the writings of Cicero, exclusive of his essays on moral duties, there is little of high merit in respect of strong good sense, adoption to the perpetual circumstances of human nature, or to the production of a great and ultimate design.

Yet there is so much of this lightly dispersed over his writings, as, with the co-operating enchantment of style, and the great situation and misfortunes of the man, give no leisure to the imagination and the pafsions for sober reflection on the intrinsic value of his genius, and the solidity of his argument.

His efsays, however, on moral duties, and his charming letters on friendship and old age, will be dear to men of virtue and genius to the latest posterity. With respect to his other remains, the immense scope that has been given in France and in England for similar exertions, will gradually throw them into the fhade, especially if the writers and orators of France and of England fhall guard against that prose run mad, that eternity of metaphor, that

point and antithesis, and, what is worst of all, that ridiculous change of argument, upon the same topic, and that political lubricity which has disgraced some of our modern orators, and will render them illustriously infamous as long as the Americans fhall be able to understand the English language.

. Of the application of these principles to modern historians, poets, philosophers, and politicians, I fhall leave it with those to whom this little paper is addressed.

GENEROSITY REWARDED.

A FRENCH gentleman of high rank who had lived for many years beyond his income, found it necefsary to retire to the country to save his credit for a little longer time. In his neighbourhood he formed an acquaintance with the magistrate of a small town, whose merit, talents, and integrity, had procured the public favour, and commanded the particular esteem of the lord, who one day condescended to demand his daughter in marriage for his son. The magistrate remonstrated against it, on account of the disproportion between them, because of her low birth The young lady was amiable in every respect; the education, fhe had received rendered her very accomplished. The father when he returned home mentioned it to his son; who exprefsed his surprise. "My son, (said the father to him,) you probably expect that you have a good deal of money to inherit from me, it is my duty to undeceive you; here, says he, presenting a paper,) is the account of my fortune and my debts; read it, reflect on it, and then judge whether the proposal I make be a reasonable one or not. I wish to ally you to a virtuous and honest family; you will there find money enough to main