Eternity," passed through six editions in this country, and was reprinted in London. A few verses will show its style

Still was the night, serene and bright,

When all men sleeping lay;
Calin was the season, and carnal reason
Thought so 't would last for aye.
Soul, take thine ease, let sorrow cease,
Much good thou hast in store:
This was their song their cups among,

The evening before.

After the "sheep” have received their reward, the several classes of "goats" are arraigned before the judgment-seat, and, in turn, begin to excuse themselves. When the infants object to damnation on the ground that

Adam is set free

-And saved from his trespass,

Whose sinful fall bath spilt them all,

And brought them to this pass,

the puritan theologist does not sustain his doctrine very well, nor quite to his own satisfaction even; and the judge, admitting the palliating circumstances, decides that although

in bliss

They may not hope to dwell,
Still unto them He will allow
The easiest room in hell.

At length the general sentence is pronounced, and the condemned begin to

wring their hands, their caitiff-hands,

And gnash their teeth for terror;

They cry, they roar for anguish sore,

And gnaw their tongues for horror.

But get away without delay,

CHRIST pities not your cry:
Depart to hell, there may ye yell,
And roar eternally.

WIGGLESWORTH died in 1705.

The Reverend BENJAMIN COLMAN, D. D. "married in succession three widows, and wrote three poems;" but though his diction was more elegant than that of most of his contemporaries, he had less originality. His only daughter, Mrs. JANE TURELL, Wrote verses which were much praised by the critics of her time.

The "Poems of the Reverend JOHN ADAMS, M.A.," were published in Boston in 1745, four years after the author's death. The volume contains paraphrases of the Psalms of David, the Book of Revelation in heroic verse, translations from HORACE, and four original compositions, of which the longest is a " Poem on Society," in three cantos. The following picture of parental love is from the

first canto.

The parent, warm with nature's tender fire,
Does in the child his second self admire;
The fondling mother views the springing charms
Of the young infant smiling in her arms:
And when imperfect accents show the dawn
Of rising reason, and the future man,
Sweetly she hears what fondly he returns,
And by this fuel her affection burns.

But when succeeding years have fix'd his growth,
And sense and judgment crown the ripen'd youth:
A social joy thence takes its happy rise,
And friendship adds its force to Nature's ties.
The conclusion of the second canto is a de-
scription of love-

But now the Muse in softer measure flows,
And gayer scenes and fairer landscapes shows:
The reign of Fancy, when the sliding hours
Are past with lovely nymph in woven bowers,
Where cooly shades, and lawns forever green,
And streams, and warbling birds adorn the scene;
Where smiles and graces, and the wanton train
Of Cytherea, crown the flowery plain.
What can their charms in equal numbers tell?
The glow of roses, and the lily pale;

The waving ringlets of the flowing hair,

The snowy bosom, and the killing air;
Their sable brows in beauteous arches bent,
The darts which from their vivid eyes are sent,

And fixing in our easy-wounded hearts,
Can never be removed by all our arts;
'Tis then with love, and love alone possest,
Our reason fled, that passion claims our breast.
How many evils then will fancy form?

A frown will gather, and discharge a storm:
Her smile more soft and cooling breezes brings,
Than zephyrs fanning with their silken wings.
But love, where madness reason does subdue,
E'en angels, were they here, might well pursue.
Lovely the sex, and moving are their charms,
But why should passion sink us to their arms?
Why should the female to a goddess turn,
And flames of love to flames of incense burn?
Either by fancy fired, or fed by lies,

Be all distraction, or all artifice?

True love does flattery as much disdain

As, of its own perfections, to be vain.

The heart can feel whate'er the lips reveal,

Nor Syren's smiles the destined death conceal.
Love is a noble and a generous fire,

Esteem and virtue feed the just desire;

Where honour leads the way it ever moves,
And ne'er from breast to breast, inconstant, roves.
Harbour'd by one, and only harbour'd there,
It likes, but ne'er can love another fair.
Fix'd upon one supreme, and her alone,
Our heart is, of the fair, the constant throne.
Nor will her absence, or her cold neglect,
At once, expel her from our just respect:
Inflamed by virtue, love will not expire,

Unless contempt or hatred quench the fire.

ADAMS died on the twenty-second of January, 1740. I copy from the "Boston Weekly Newsletter,' ,"* printed the day after his interment, the following letter from a correspondent at Cambridge, which shows the estimation in which he was held by his contemporaries:

"Last Wednesday morning expired in this place, in the thirty-sixth year of his age, and this day was interred with a just solemnity and respect, the reverend and learned JOHN ADAMS, M. A., only son of the Honourable JOHN ADAMS, Esquire.

"The corpse was carried and placed in the

This was the first newspaper published in America. It was established in 1601, and the first sheet that was printed was taken damp from the press by Chief Justice SEWEL, to exhibit as a curiosity to President WILLARD, of Harvard University. The "Newsletter" was con tinued seventy-two years.

center of the college hall; from whence, after a portion of Holy Scripture, and a prayer very suitable to the occasion, by the learned head of that society, it was taken and deposited within sight of the place of his own education. The pall was supported by the fellows of the college, the professor of mathematics, and another master of arts. And, next to a number of sorrowful relatives, the remains of this great man were followed by his honour the lieutenant-governor, with some of his majesty's council and justices; who, with the reverend the president, the professor of divinity, and several gentlemen of distinction from this and the neighbouring towns, together with all the members and students of the college, coinposed the train that attended in an orderly procession, to the place that had been appointed for his mournful interment.

"The character of this excellent person is too great to be comprised within the limits of a paper of intelligence. It deserves to be engraven in letters of gold on a monument of marble, or rather to appear and shine forth from the works of some genius, of an uncommon sublimity, and equal to his own. But sufficient to perpetuate his memory to the latest posterity, are the immortal writings and composures of this departed gentleman; who, for his genius, his learning, and his piety, ought to be enrolled in the highest class in the catalogue of Fame."

The only American immortalized in "The Dunciad" was JAMES RALPH, who went to England with FRANKLIN. POPE exclaims

Silence, ye wolves! while RALPH to Cynthia howls, And makes night hideous; answer him, ye owls! RALPH wrote a long "poem" entitled “Zeuma, or the Love of Liberty," which appeared in London in 1729; "Night," and "Sawney," a satire, in which I suppose he attempted to repay the debt he owed to POPE, as it is but an abusive tirade against that poet and his friends. I quote a few lines from "Zeuma:"

Tlascala's vannt, great ZAGNAR'S martial son, Extended on the rack, no more complains That realms are wanting to employ his sword; But, circled with innumerable ghosts, Who print their keenest vengeance on his soul, For all the wrongs, and slaughters of his reign, Howls out repentance to the deafen'd skies, And shakes hell's concave with continual groans. In Philadelphia, in 1728 and 1729, THOMAS MAKIN published two Latin poems, "Encomium Pennsylvania" and "In laudes Pennsylvaniæ." About the same time appeared in Boston JOHN MAYHEW's "Gallic Perfidy" and "Conquest of Louisburg," two smoothly versified but very dull compositions.

THOMAS GODFREY of Philadelphia has been called "the first American dramatic poet," but I believe a play superior to “The Prince of Parthia" had been composed by some students at Cambridge before his time. GODFREY was a son of the inventor of the quadrant claimed in England by HADLEY. He was a lieutenant in the expedition against Fort Du Quesne in 1759, and on the disbanding of the colonial forces went to New Providence, and afterward to North Carolina, where he died, on the third of August, 1763, in the twentyseventh year of his age. His poems were published in Philadelphia in 1765, in a quarto volume of two hundred and thirty pages. "The Prince of Parthia, a Tragedy," con tains a few vigorous passages, but not enough to save it from condemnation as the most worthless composition in the dramatic form that has been printed in America. The fol lowing lines from the fifth act, might pass for respectable prose

O may he never know & father's fondness, Or know it to his sorrow; may his hopes Of joy be cut like mine, and his short life Be one continued tempest. If he lives, Let him be cursed with jealousy and fear; May torturing Hope present the flowing cup, Then, hasty, snatch it from his eager thirst, And, when he dies, base treachery be the means. The Court of Fancy," a poem in the heroic measure, is superior to his tragedy in its diction, but has little originality of thought or illustration. Of Fancy he gives this description

High in the midst, raised on her rolling throne,
Sublimely eminent, bright FANCY shone.
A glittering tiara her temples bound,
hich set with sparkling rubies all around;
A radiant bough, ensign of her command,
Of polished gold, waved in her lily hand;
The same the sybil to ENEAS gave,
When the bold Trojan cross'd the Stygian wave.
In silver traces fix'd unto her car,

Four snowy swans, proud of the imperial fair,
Wing'd lightly on, each in gay beauty dress'd,
Smooth'd the soft plumage that adorn'd her breast.
Sacred to her the lucent chariot drew,
Or whether wildly through the air she flew,
Or whether to the dreary shades of night,
Oppress'd with gloom she downward bent her flight,
Or proud aspiring sought the bless'd abodes,
And boldly shot among the assembled gods.

One of GODFREY's most intimate friends was the Reverend NATHANIEL EVANS, a native of Philadelphia, admitted to holy orders by the Bishop of London in 1765. He died in October, 1767, in the twenty-sixth year of his age; and his poems, few of which had been printed in his lifetime, were soon afterward, by his direction, collected and published. The "Ode on the Prospect of Peace," written in 1761, is the most carefully finished of

his productions. I quote the concluding

verses

Thus has Britannia's glory beam'd,

Where'er bright Phoebus, from his car,
To earth his cheerful rays hath stream'd,
Adown the crystal vault of air.
Enough o'er Britain's shining arms,
Hath Victory display'd her charms
Amid the horrid pomp of war-
Descend then, Peace, angelic maid,

And smoothe BELLONA's haggard brow;
Haste to diffuse thy healing aid,

Where'er implored by scenes of wo.
Henceforth whoe'er disturbs thy reign
Or stains the world with human gore,
Be they from earth (a gloomy train!)

Banish'd to hell's profoundest shore;
Where Vengeance, on Avernus' lake,
Rages, with furious ATE bound;
And black Rebellion's fetters shake,

And Discord's hideous murmurs sound;
Where Envy's noxious snakes entwine

Her temples round, in gorgon mood,
And bellowing Faction rolls supine
Along the flame-becurled flood!-
Hence, then, to that accursed place,
Disturbers of the human race!

And with you bear Ambition wild, and selfish Pride,
With Persecution foul, and Terror by her side.

Thus driven from earth, War's horrid train-
O Peace, thou nymph divine, draw near!
Here let the muses fix their reign,

And crown with fame each rolling year.
Source of joy and genuine pleasure,
Queen of quiet, queen of leisure,

Haste thy votaries to cheer!
Cherish'd beneath thy hallow'd rule,
Shall Pennsylvania's glory rise;
Her sons, bred up in Virtue's school,
Shall lift her honours to the skies-
A state thrice blest with lenient sway,
Where Liberty exalts the mind;
Where Plenty basks the live-long day
And pours her treasures unconfined.
Hither, ye beauteous virgins tend,

With Art and Science by your side,
Whose skill the untutor'd morals mend,
And mankind to fair honour guide;
And with you bring the graces three,

To fill the soul with glory's blaze;
Whose charms give grace to poesy,

And consecrate the immortal lays-
Such as, when mighty PINDAR sung,
Through the Alphean village rung;

Or such as, Meles, by thy lucid fountains flow'd,
When bold MEONIDES with heavenly transports glow'd.
To such, may Delaware, majestic flood,

Lend, from his flowery banks, a ravish'd ear;
Such note as may delight the wise and good,
Or saints celestial may endure to hear!
For if the muse can aught of time descry,
Such notes shall sound thy crystal waves along,
Thy cities fair with glorious Athens vie,
Nor pure llissus boast a nobler song.
On thy fair banks, a fane to Virtue's name
Shall rise-and Justice light her holy flame.
All hail, then, Peace! restore the golden days,
And round the ball diffuse Britannia's praise;
Stretch her wide empire to the world's last end,
Till kings remotest to her sceptre bend!
JOHN OSBORN of Sandwich, in Massachu-
setts, who died in 1753, wrote a "Whaling
Song" which was well known in the Pacific

And cover o'er the speckled ground.
Now thickets shade the glassy fountains;
Trees o'erhang the purling streams;
Whisp'ring breezes brush the mountains,
Grots are fill'd with balmy steams.

But, sister, all the sweets that grace
The spring and blooming nature's face;
The chirping birds,
Nor lowing herds;
The woody hills,

Nor murm'ring rills;
The sylvan shades,

Nor flowery meads,

To me their former joys dispense,

Though all their pleasures court my sense,
But melancholy damps my mind;

Ionely walk the field,

With inward sorrow fill'd,

And sigh to every breathing wind.

The facetious MATHER BYLES was in his time equally famous as a poet and a wit. A contemporary bard exclaims

Would but APOLLO's genial touch inspire

Such sounds as breathe from BYLES's warbling lyre,
Then might my notes in melting measures flow,
And make all nature wear the signs of wo.

And his humour is celebrated in a poetical
account of the clergy of Boston, quoted by
Mr. SAMUEL KETTELL, in his "Specimens of
American Poetry,"-

There's punning BYLES, provokes our smiles,

A man of stately parts.

He visits folks to crack his jokes,

Which never mend their hearts.

With strutting gait, and wig so great,

He walks along the streets;

And throws out wit, or what's like it,
To every one he meets.

BYLES was graduated at Cambridge in 1725, and was ordained the first minister of the church in Hollis street, in 1732. He soon became eminent as a preacher, and the King's College at Aberdeen conferred on him the degree of Doctor of Divinity. He was one of the authors of "A Collection of Poems by several Hands," which appeared in 1744,and of numerous essays and metrical compositions in "The New England Weekly Journal," the merit of which was such as to introduce him to the notice of POPE and other English scholars. One of his poems is entitled "The Conflagration;" and it is "applied to that grand catastrophe of our world when the face of nature is to be changed

C

by a deluge of fire." show its style

Yet shall ye, flames, the wasting globe refine, And bid the skies with purer splendour shine. The earth, which the prolific fires consume, To beauty burns, and withers into bloom; Improving in the fertile flame it lies, Fades into form, and into vigour dies: Fresh-dawning glories blush amidst the blaze, And nature all renews her flowery face. With endless charms the everlasting year Rolls round the seasons in a full career; Spring, ever-blooming, bids the fields rejoice, And warbling birds try their melodious voice; Where'er she treads, lilies unbidden blow, Quick tulips rise, and sudden roses glow : Her pencil paints a thousand beauteous scenes, Where blossoms bud amid immortal greens; Each stream, in mazes, murmurs as it flows, And floating forests gently bend their boughs. Thou, autumn, too, sitt'st in the fragrant shade, While the ripe fruits blush all around thy head; And lavish nature, with luxuriant hands, All the soft months, in gay confusion blends. BYLES was earnestly opposed to the Revolution, and in the spring of 1777 was denounced in the public assemblies as a Tory, and compelled to give bonds for his appearance before a court for trial. In the following June he was convicted of treasonable conversation, and hostility to the country, and sentenced to be imprisoned forty days on board a guard ship, and at the end of that period to be sent with his family to England. The board of war however took his case into consideration, and commuted the punishment to a short confinement under a guard in his own house; but, though he continued to reside in Boston during the remainder of his life, he never again entered a pulpit, nor regained his ante-revolutionary popularity. He died in 1788, in the eightysecond year of his age.

He was a favourite in every social or convivial circle, and no one was more fond of his society than the colonial governor, BELCHER, on the death of whose wife he wrote an elegy ending with

Meantime my name to thine allied shall stand, Still our warm friendship, mutual flames extend; The muse shall so survive from age to age, And BELCHER's name protect his BYLES's page. The doctor had declined an invitation to visit with the governor the province of Maine, and BELCHER resorted to a stratagem to secure his company. Having persuaded him to drink tea with him on board the Scarborough ship of war, one Sunday afternoon, as soon as they were seated at the table the anchor was weighed, the sails set, and before the punning parson had called for his last cup, the ship was too far at sea for him to think of returning to the shore. As every thing necessary for his comfort had been thoughtfully provided, he was easily reconciled to the voyage. While

Great GOD, thy works our wonder raise;
To thee our swelling notes belong;
While skies and winds, and rocks and seas,
Around shall echo to our song.

Thy power produced this mighty frame,
Aloud to thee the tempests roar,
Or softer breezes tune thy name
Gently along the shelly shore.
Round thee the scaly nation roves,

Thy opening hands their joys bestow,
Through all the blushing coral groves,
These silent gay retreats below.

See the broad sun forsake the skies,
Glow on the waves, and downward glide;
Anon heaven opens all its eyes,

And star-beams tremble o'er the tide.
Each various scene, or day or night,

LORD! points to thee our nourish'd soul;
Thy glories fix our whole delight;

So the touch'd needle courts the pole. JOSEPH GREEN, a merchant of Boston, who had been a classmate of BYLES at Cambridge, was little less celebrated than the doctor for humour; and some of his poetical compositions were as popular ninety years ago as in our own time have been those of "CROAKER & Co.," which they resemble in spirit and playful ease of versification. The abduction of the Hollis street minister was the cause of not a little merriment in Boston; and GREEN, between whom and BYLES there was some rivalry, as the leaders of opposing social factions, soon after wrote a burlesque account of it

In DAVID'S Psalms an oversight
BYLES found one morning at his tea,
Alas! that he should never write
A proper psalm to sing at sea.
Thus ruminating on his seat,
Ambitious thoughts at length prevail'd,
The bard determined to complete

The part wherein the prophet fail'd.
He sat awhile and stroked his muse,*
Then taking up his tuneful pen,
Wrote a few stanzas for the use
Of his seafaring brethren.
The task perform'd, the bard content,
Well chosen was each flowing word;
On a short voyage himself he went,
To hear it read and sung on board.
Most serious Christians do aver,
(Their credit sure we may rely on,)
In former times that after prayer,
They used to sing a song of Zion.
Our modern parson having pray'd,
Unless loud fame our faith beguiles,
Sat down, took out his book and said,
"Let's sing a psalm of MATHER BYLES."
At first, when he began to read,

Their heads the assembly downward hung,
But he with boldness did proceed,

And thus he read, and thus they sung.

* BYLES's favourite cat, so named by his friends.

THE PSALM.

With vast amazement we survey

The wonders of the deep, Where mackerel swim, and porpoise play, And crabs and lobsters creep. Fish of all kinds inhabit here,

And throng the dark abode.

Here haddock, hake, and flounders are,
And eels, and perch, and cod.
From raging winds and tempests free,
So smoothly as we pass,
The shining surface seems to be

A piece of Bristol glass.

But when the winds and tempests rise,
And foaming billows swell,
The vessel mounts above the skies
And lower sinks than hell.

Our heads the tottering motion feel,
And quickly we become

Giddy as new-dropp'd calves, and reel
Like Indians drunk with rum.
What praises then are due that we
Thus far have safely got,
Amarescoggin tribe to see,

And tribe of Penobscot.

In 1750 GREEN published "An Entertainment for a Winter Evening," in which he ridicules the freemasons; and afterward, "The Sand Bank," "A True Account of the Celebration of St. JOHN the Baptist," and several shorter pieces, all of which I believe were satirical. His epigrams are the best written in this country before the Revolution; and many anecdotes are told to show the readiness of his wit and his skill as an improvisator. On one occasion, a country gentleman, knowing his reputation as a poet, procured an introduction to him, and solicited a "first rate epitaph" for a favourite servant who had lately

died. GREEN asked what were the man's chief qualities, and was told that "COLE excelled in all things, but was particularly good at raking hay, which he could do faster than anybody, the present company, of course, excepted." GREEN wrote immediately

Here lies the body of JOHN COLE,
His master loved him like his soul;
He could rake hay, none could rake faster
Except that raking dog, his master.

In his old age GREEN left Boston for England, rather from the infirmities of age, than from indifference to the cause of liberty.

Contemporary with BYLES and GREEN was the celebrated Doctor BENJAMIN CHURCH. He was born in Boston in 1739, and graduated at Cambridge when in the sixteenth year of his age. After finishing his professional education, he established himself as a physician in his native city, and soon became eminent by his literary and political writings. At the commencement of the revolutionary troubles, he was chosen a member of the Massachusetts legislature, and after the battle of Lexington

was appointed surgeon-general of the army. In the autumn of 1775 he was suspected of treasonable correspondence with the enemy, arrested by order of the commander-in-chief, tried by the general court, and found guilty. By direction of the Congress, to whom the subject of his punishment was referred, he was confined in a prison in Connecticut; but after a few months, on account of the condition of his health, was set at liberty; and in the summer of 1776 he embarked at Newport for the West Indies, in a ship which was never heard of after the day on which it sailed. CHURCH Wrote several of the best poems in Pietas et Gratulatio Collegii Cantabrigiensis apud Novanglos, published on the accession of George the Third to the throne; and "The Times," a satire, "The Choice," "Elegies on GEORGE WHITEFIELD and Doctor MAYHEW," and several other pieces, all of which were manly in their style, and smoothly versified. The following are the concluding lines of his address to the king:

May one clear calm attend thee to thy close,
One lengthen'd sunshine of complete repose:
Correct our crimes, and beam that Christian mind
O'er the wide wreck of desolate mankind;
To calm-brow'd Peace, the maddening world restore,
Or lash the demon thirsting still for gore;
Till nature's utmost bound thy arms restrain,
And prostrate tyrants bite the British chain.

JAMES ALLEN, the author of an "epic poem" entitled "Bunker Hill," of which but a few

fragments have been published, lived in the same period. The world lost nothing by "his neglect of fame."

WILLIAM LIVINGSTON, a member of the first Congress, and the first republican governor of New Jersey, was born in New York in 1723, and was graduated at Yale College in 1741. His poem entitled "Philosophic Solitude," which has been frequently reprinted, is a specimen of elegant mediocrity-superior to most of the compositions which I have already alluded to-but contains nothing worthy of especial praise. The opening verses are not deficient in melody:

Let ardent heroes seek renown in arms, Pant after fame, and rush to war's alarms; To shining palaces let fools resort, And dunces cringe to be esteem'd at court: Mine be the pleasure of a rural life, From noise remote, and ignorant of strife; Far from the painted belle, and white-gloved beau, The lawless masquerade, and midnight show, From ladies, lap-dogs, courtiers, garters, stars, Fops, fiddlers, tyrants, emperors, and czars. Among the poets who wrote just before the Revolution, and whom I have not before mentioned, was Mrs. ELIZA BLEECKER, the author of several pieces relating to the domestic suf