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THE AMERICAN POETS.
JOHN SHAW, M. D.
Dr. Shaw was born in Maryland, in 1778, and died at sea, near the West India Islands, in 1809. He was secretary to General Eaton, at Tunis, in 1800 ; and in 1803 accompanied Lord Selkirk on his expedition to form a settlement on St. Louis Island in Upper Canada. A collection of his poems was published in Philadelphia in 1810,
Who has robb'd the ocean cave,
To tinge thy lips with coral hue ?
Who, from yonder orient sky,
Thousand charms, thy form to deck,
From sea, and earth, and air are torn;
On thy breath their fragrance borne.
Guard thy bosom from the day,
Lest thy snows should melt away.
Which mute earth can ne'er impart;
Fairest, wouldst thou perfect be,
WASHINGTON ALLSTON, A. R. A., was born in South Carolina in 1779, and died in Cambridgeport, Massachusetts, on the 8th of July, 1843. He was the greatest of the American painters. A collection of his poems was published in London in 1812. “ Monaldi, his principle prose work, appeared in Boston in 1841.
AMERICA TO GREAT BRITAIN.*
ALL hail ! thou noble land,
Our fathers' native soil !
Gigantic grown by toil,
* This poem was first published in Coleridge's “Sibylline Leaves, in 1810.
O’er the vast Atlantic wave to our shore;
For thou, with magic night,
The world o'er!
The genius of our clime,
From his pine-embattled steep, Shall hail the great sublime;
While the Tritons of the deep
Bright in fame!
Though ages long have pass'd
Since our fathers left their home,
O’er untravell’d seas to roam,-
And shall we not proclaim
By its chains ?
Which the bard of Avon sung,
How the vault of heaven rung,
While this, with reverence meet,
From rock to rock repeat
Round our coast;
While the manners, while the arts,
That mould a nation's soul, Still cling around our hearts,
Between let ocean roll, Our joint communion breaking with the sun: Yet, still, from either beach, The voice of blood shall reach, More audible than speech,
“We are one !"
O POUR upon my soul again
That sad, unearthly strain,
And dropp'd them from the skies.
This melody of woe,
That veils the world I see.
For all I see around me wears
The hue of other spheres ;
So like angelic bliss.
When the last lingering ray
In music to her soul.
COLERIDGE. AND thou art gone most loved, most honor'd friend! No-never more thy gentle voice shall blend With air of earth its pure ideal tonesBinding in one, as with harmonious zones, The heart and intellect. And I no more Shall with thee gaze on that unfathom’d deep, The Human Soul; as when, push'd off the shore, Thy mystic bark would thro' the darkness sweepItself the while so bright! For oft we seem'd As on some starless sea-all dark above, All dark below-yet, onward as we drove, To plough up light that ever round us stream'd. But he who mourns is not as one bereft Of all he loved : thy living Truths are left.