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scapes of immortal fragrance and freshness, and peoples them with spirits of glorious aspect and attractive grace, and is a thousand times more full of imagery and splendor, than those who, for the sake of such qualities, have shrunk back from the delineation of character or pas- 35 sion, and declined the discussion of human duties and

More full of wisdom, and ridicule, and sagacity, than all the moralists and satirists in existence, he is more wild, airy, and inventive, and more pathetic and fantastic, than all the poets of all regions and ages of the 40 world; and has all these elements so happily mixed up in him, and bears his high faculties so temperately, that the most severe reader cannot complain of him for want of strength or of reason, nor the most sensitive for defect of ornament or ingenuity. Every thing in him is 45 in unmeasured abundance and unequalled perfection; but every thing so balanced and kept in subordination as not to jostle, or disturb, or take the place of another. The most exquisite poetical conceptions, images, and descriptions, are given with such brevity, and intro- 50 duced with such skill, as merely to adorn without loading the sense they accompany. Although his sails are purple and perfumed, and his prow of beaten gold, they waft him on his voyage, not less, but more rapidly and directly, than if they had been composed of baser ma- 55 terials. All his excellences, like those of nature herself, are thrown out together; and, instead of interfering with, support and recommend each other. His flowers are not tied up in garlands, nor his fruits crushed into baskets, but spring living from the soil, in all the dew and 60 freshness of youth; while the graceful foliage in which they lurk, and the ample branches, the rough and vigorous stem, and the wide-spreading roots on which they depend, are present along with them, and share, in their places, the equal care of their Creator.



Purpose of the Monument on Bunker Hill.-WEBSTER.

We know that the record of illustrious actions is most safely deposited in the universal remembrance of mankind. We know, that if we could cause this structure to ascend, not only till it reached the skies, but till it pierced them, its broad surfaces could still contain but a 5 part of that which, in an age of knowledge, hath already been spread over the earth, and which history charges herself with making known to all future times. We know that no inscription on entablatures less broad than the earth itself, can carry information of the events we 10 commemorate where it has not already gone; and that no structure, which shall not outlive the duration of letters and knowledge among men, can prolong the memorial. But our object is, by this edifice, to show our deep sense of the value and importance of the achievements 15 of our ancestors; and, by presenting this work of gratitude to the eye, to keep alive similar sentiments, and to foster a constant regard to the principles of the revolution. Human beings are composed, not of reason only, but of imagination also, and sentiments; and that is 20 neither wasted nor misapplied, which is appropriated to the purpose of giving right direction to sentiments, and opening proper springs of feeling in the heart.

Let it not be supposed that our object is to perpetuate national hostility, or even to cherish a mere military 25 spirit. It is higher, purer, nobler. We consecrate our work to the spirit of national independence, and we wish that the light of peace may rest upon it for ever. We rear a memorial of our convictions of that unmeasured benefit, which has been conferred upon our land, 30 and of the happy influences which have been produced, by the same events, on the general interests of mankind. We come, as Americans, to mark the spot which must be for ever dear to us and our posterity. We wish that whosoever, in all coming time, shall turn his eye hither, 35 may behold that the place is not undistinguished where the first great battle of the Revolution was fought. We wish that this structure may proclaim the magnitude and importance of that event to every class and every age. We wish that infancy may learn the purpose of its erec- 40 tion from maternal lips, and that weary and withered age may behold it and be solaced by the recollections which it suggests. We wish that labor may look up here, and be proud in the midst of its toil. X We wish that in those days of disaster, which, as they come upon all nations, 45 must be expected to come on us also, desponding patriotism

may turn his eye hither, and be assured that the foundations of our national power still stand strong. We wish that this column, rising towards heaven among the pointed spires of so many temples dedicated to God, 50 may contribute also to produce in all minds a pious feeling of dependence and gratitude. We wish, finally, that the last object on the sight of him who leaves his native shore, and the first to gladden his who revisits it, may be something, which shall remind him of the liberty and 55 glory of his country. Let it rise till it meet the sun in his coming. Let the earliest light of morning gild it, and parting day linger and play upon its summit.






To Seneca Lake.—PERCIVAL.

1. On thy fair bosom, silver lake

The wild swan spreads his snowy sail, And round his breast the ripples break,

As down he bears before the gale.

2. On thy fair bosom, waveless stream!

The dipping paddle echoes far, And flashes in the moonlight gleam,

And bright reflects the polar star.

3. The waves along thy pebbly shore,

As blows the north wind, heave their foam, And curl around the dashing oar,

As late the boatman hies him home.

4. How sweet, at set of sun, to view

The golden mirror spreading wide, And see the mist of mantling blue

Float round the distant mountain's side!

5. At midnight hour, as shines the moon,

A sheet of silver spreads below;
And swift she cuts, at highest noon,

Light clouds, like wreaths of purest snow.

6. On thy fair bosom, silver lake!

Oh! I could ever sweep the oar,
When early birds at morning wake,

And evening tells us toil is o'er. ,


The Soldier's Dream.- CAMPBELL.

1. Our bugles sang truce — for the night cloud bad lowered,

And the sentinel stars set their watch in the sky; And thousands had sunk on the ground overpowered,

The weary to sleep, and the wounded to die.

2. When reposing that night on my pallet of straw,

By the wolf-scaring fagot that guarded the slain; At the dead of the night a sweet vision I saw,

And thrice ere the morning I dreamt it again.

3. Methought from the battle-field's dreadful array,

Far, far I had roamed on a desolate track; 'T was autumn and sunshine arose on the way

To the home of my fathers, that welcomed me back.

4. I flew to the pleasant fields traversed so oft

In life's morning march, when my bosom was young; I heard my own mountain-goats bleating aloft,

And knew the sweet strain that the corn-reapers sung.

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