The medal is a circle of about two inches diameter, widely and neatly embroidered around the periphery, simply containing on one side the words,

This Prologue, as first printed, contained some bombast, and several inaccuracies; yet a greater volume of poetic mind has seldom, if ever, been embodied in the same compass. In conceiving greatly, Mr. Paine sometimes conceived extravagantly, or obscurely. For instance, as the Prologue originally stood:

But, lo! where, rising in majestick flight,
The Roman eagle sails the expanse of light!
His wings, like Heaven's vast canopy, unfurled,
Spread their broad plumage o'er the subject world
Behold ! he soars, where golden Phaebus rolls,
And, perching on his car, o'erlooks the poles!

Far, as revolves the chariot's radiant way,

He wafts his empire on the tide of day;
From where, it rolls on yon bright sea of suns;
To where in Light's remotest ebb, it runs.

The writer had occasion to analyze this passage, in a familiar manner, in his presence. He agreed that it was indefensible, and has since amended it; but it is still extravagant, although supported by the authority of an Augustan poet.

Extravagant and obscure is he also in the "Invention of Letters."

Could Faustus live, by gloomy Grave resigned;

With

power extensive, as sublime his mind,

Thy glorious life a volume should compose,

As Alps immortal, spotless as its snows.

Had he here closed, all would have been well: but to make the volume complete,

The stars should be its types-its press the age;
The earth its binding-and the sky its page.

The writer asked how he would paint Faustus picking up the stars for types, time his press, the sky his paper, and afterwards, this volume of the sky bound with the earth.-"Poh," said he, "you know obscurity is part of the sublime it went down well; it took-marvellously."

A more perfect or sublime allegory is not recollected, than the following, in the "Prize Prologue," portraying the ages of darkness, which succeeded the Roman empire:

Thus set the sun of intellectual light,

And wrapped in clouds, lowered on the Gothick night.
Dark gloomed the storm-the rushing torrent poured,
And wide the deep Cimmerian deluge roared;

E'en Learning's loftiest hills were covered o'er,
And seas of dulness rolled, without a shore.
Yet, ere the surge Parnassus' top o'erflowed,
The banished Muses fled their blest abode.

Frail was their ark, the heaven-topped seas to brave,
The wind their compass, and their helm the wave;
No port to cheer them, and no star to guide,
From clime to clime they roved the billowy tide;
At length, by storms and tempests wafted o'er,
They found an Ararat on Albion's shore.

He once said that he had written several additional lines, making Apollo swear by Shakespeare, as the rainbow, that there should be no second deluge of dramatic dulness: but, fearing he should, like Dr. Young, run down the allegory, he forbore their retention.

This Prologue, since its first publication, has been much amended, and has received copious additions; and it was designed to have inserted a sketch of the most eminent dramatists.

A considerable company of Comedians arrived from England, and the theatre was opened with very flattering success.

Among the trans-Atlantic performers, were Mr. Baker and wife, and an only daughter, Miss ELIZA BAKER, then aged about sixteen; young, handsome, amiable, and intelligent: she was not viewed with indifference by Mr. Paine; and the stage had now for him more than the usual attractions. His views were, however, governed by affection, delicacy, and honour. No man can read

the following nervous lines in his "Ruling Passion," written about this time, and suppose they could have been otherwise :

Poor is the trophy of seductive Art,

Which, but to triumph, subjugates the heart;
Or, Tarquin-like, with more licentious flame,
Stains manly truth to plunder female fame.
Life's deepest penance never can atone,
For Hope deluded, or for Virtue flown.

Yet such there are, whose smooth, perfidious smile
Might cheat the tempting crocodile in guile.
Thorns be their pillow; agony their sleep;

Nor e'en the mercy given, to "wake and weep!"
May screaming night-fiends, hot in recreant gore,
Rive their strained fibres to their heart's rank core,
Till startled conscience heap, in wild dismay,
Convulsive curses on the source of day!

During the theatrical season of 1793-4, the Drama was the principal subject of Paine's amusement and attention, and he spent much time in writing theatrical criticisms. His mercantile business became irksome, and his mercantile ambition was gone. Hence, in the ensuing summer, he parted from Mr. Tisdale, by whom he had ever been treated with kindness, and of whom he ever spake with respect and commendation.

The qualities, which had secured him esteem, at the university, were daily expanding, and his reputation was daily increasing. His society was eagerly sought in the most polished and refined circles; he administered compliments with great address; and no beau was ever a greater favorite

in the beau monde ! His apparel was now in the extreme of fashion; although at some subsequent periods, when his fortunes were less propitious, he indulged in a truly poetical negligence of attire.

Shortly after his separation from the counting house, he issued proposals for publishing a semiweekly newspaper, in the town of Boston. His literary reputation was high, and it was expected that his publication, while it should adhere to the gospel politics of federalism, would teem with the effusions of fancy and of taste. The subscription for this paper was liberal; and it commenced on the 20th of October, 1794, under the title of "The Federal Orrery;" with the motto, from Virgil, "Solemque suum, sua sidera, norunt."

Public expectation was, however, not a little disappointed. Love, the theatre, natural indolence, and constant temptations to pleasure and amusement, stole away his hours; and even the little attention he paid to his paper, seemed a drudgery.

There are, however, some circumstances connected with the publication of this journal, which deserve notice. In the fore part of the year 1795, he inserted, in numbers, in the Orrery, "The Jacobiniad," a political poem. This poem is modelled upon "The Rolliad," if not copied from it. Mr. Paine new-pointed and new-edged much of the satire; and the leaders of the jacobin faction were sorely galled by this battery of ridicule. This