Utque dies faustâ luce, precaris, eat.
Tinnitu adventum signans, oriantur an astra
Narras, an purè lucida luna micet.
Dumque quies nos alta manei, nec frigoris ullus
Securos, pluviæ nec metus ullus habet;
Tu gelidos inter ventos versaris et imbres,
Cùm mala tempestas, et nigra sævit hiems
Seu te præsentem vicus, seu viculus, audit
Nocturnum multo carmine fallis iter.
Quod si culta minùs, doctâ vacet arte poësis,
Si simplex versus sit, numerique rudes;
Invidiam somnus (tanta indulgentia noctis)
Opprimit: et livor, te recitante, silet.

Divorum hyberni menses quotcunque celebrant
Cuique locum et versum dat tua musa suum:
Crispino ante omnes; neque enim sine carmine fas est,
Nobile sutorum præteriisse decus.

.Nec tua te pietas fieri permiserit unquam

Cæsaris immemorem, Cæsareæque domûs.

Officio dominos multo dominasque salutas;
Gratia nec fide sedulitatis abest.

Multa docens juvenes, et pulchras multa puellas,
Utile tu pueris virginibusque canis:
Conjugium felix, monitis utentibus, optas,
Cunctaque quæ castus guadia lectus habet.
Tu monitor famulis sexûs utriusque benignus
Munditias illis præcipis, hisce fidem.
Omnibus at votis hoc oras atque peroras,

Ut dominis cedant prospera quæque tuis.
Unum hoc præ cunctis meminisse hortaris, ut imis
Summa etiam ex æquet mortis amica manus.
Quib tibi pro totidem meritis speremus? amori
Quisve tuo æqualis retribuatur amor?
Tuque tuusque canis si nos visetis, uterque

Grati eritis nobis, tuque tuusque canis.
Mille domos adeas et non ignobile munus
(Nulla minus solido) dent tibi mille domus;

Quemque bonum exoptas nobis lætumque Decembrem Esto tibi pariter lætus et esto bonus.

THE OCEAN PILGRIM.

A MORAL POEM-BY MR. DAVIS.

Illi robur et æs triplex

Circa pectus, erat.

Thomas King, a young American sailor, confined on board the Ruby, guardship, at Bermuda, observed one evening a boat alongside with her sails standing, which the lieutenants had neglected to hoist in. A squall arose, and in the darkness of the gust, he committed himself in her, to the mercy of the winds and waves, with no other provision than some biscuits and water. He was alone nine days on the awful expanse of waters in this open boat; on the tenth he made the Virginia shore and landed at Cape Henry.

Strong is the love of native home,
There vivid fancy casts her eye;
Whether on earth, or sea we roam,
Our native land demands the sigh.

So, I, Columbia's true born son,
In floating dungeon long confin'd,
Could ne'er by smiles nor bribes be won,
To abjure the land I left behind.

Bermuda's isle had long beheld,

In prison-ship, my cheerless fare,
From home and voice of friends withheld,
A mournful victim to despair.

At length, one night, a boat astern,
With snowy sails allured my gaze;
A squall arose-and, now, I burn,
To leave my jailors in the haze.

Some bread and water all my store,
A compass sav'd in vent'rous mood;
And now alone, I traverse o'er,
In open boat, great Neptune's flood.

'Twas Sabbath, when my frail bark roll'd,

At mercy of the billowy steep;

But though no bell to Vespers toll'd,

I found a temple on the deep.

I earnest pray'd, that He, whose storms,
In terror shake the sea and sky,
Would take my spirit in his arms,
And watch me with a parent's eye.

The fair moon lent the sea her light,
Her beams upon the surface curl'd,
And dolphins sported, passing bright,
Around my little wooden world.

When, sudden, from a silver cloud,
Advanc'd sweet Hope, a vision bright!
With melting voice, she call'd aloud,
And charm'd the silence of the night.

"Sea-pilgrim hail! old Ocean kind,
"Shall homeward bear his sailor boy,
"And soon a mother's arms shall wind
"Around thy neck with speechless joy.

"Thy sisters dear, shall sobbing dwell
"About thy form, with gushing eye;
"And she, whose vestal tumults swell,
"Shall at thy presence cease to sigh.'

Nine days had pass'd-the tenth I knew
By signs, that land was not remote;
The sea had lost its sable hue,
And swallows hover'd round my boat.

'Twas so-for, soon, in angel shape
Uprose to view, Virginia's shore!
I land on Henry's welcome Cape,
I kneel, and humbly God adore!

LITERARY INTELLIGENCE.

Two London editions of Mr. Dunlap's Life of Cooke have been published. Copies of both have already reached this country. Millar's edition is splendidly printed in octavo.

WORKS PUBLISHED.

Boston.

A letter to the reverend Mr. Cary, containing remarks upon his review of the Grounds of Christianity Examined, by comparing the New Testament with the Old. By the author of that work.

"Non tali auxilio, nec defensoribus istis.
"Tempus eget."

To which is subjoined, a letter respectfully addressed to the reverend Mr. Channing, relative to his Two Sermons on Infidelity.

Newyork.

Review of Newyork, or Rambles Through the City, an original poem; moral, religious, sarcastic, and descriptive.

MORTUARY.

DIED, suddenly, by apoplexy, on Sunday the twelfth ultimo, in the forty-ninth year of her age, Mrs. MARY CATHARINE STOCKER, relict of the late John Clement Stocker, esquire, whose death we announced in The Port Folio of November last: Thus are the surviving children bereaved of both their parents within the short period of a few weeks. Such afflictive dispensations of Divine Providence call loudly upon all who are informed of their occurrence, to "consider their ways," the uncertainty of human life, and the high responsibility of man.

Of Mrs. Stocker it my truly be said, that her uniform and exemplary piety, her amiable and affectionate disposition, her kind and courteous deportment, rendered her inestimably valuable to her relatives and friends, and endeared her to all who had the privilege of her acquaintance.

Such was the blameless tenor of her life, and such her habitual meditation upon the inevitable approach of Death, that his commission to terminate her state of probation, though executed

without warning, did not find her unprepared; for her spiritual lamp was always burning with a bright and steady flame.

"By Nature's law what may be, may be now,
There's no prerogative in human hours.

In human hearts what bolder thought can rise
Than man's presumption on tomorrow's dawn;
Where is tomorow? In another world.
For numbers this is certain. The reverse
Is sure to none."

TO READERS AND CORRESPONDENTS.

THE Communication of Vivian came too late for insertion in this number. We shall always be pleased with such proofs of his taste, and the liberality of his studies.