To Europe's shores renowned in deathless song, Must all the bonors of the bard belong? And rural poetry's enchanting strain Be only heard beyond th' Atlantic main? Shall nature's charms that bloom so lovely here, Unhailed arrive, unheeded disappear; While bare bleak heaths and brooks of half a mile Can rouse the thousand bards of Britain's Isle. There, scarce a stream creeps down its narrow bod, There, scarce a hillock lifts its little head, Or humble hamlet peeps their glades among But lives and murmurs in immortal song. Our western world with all its matchless floods, Our vast transparent lakes and boundless woods, Stamp'd with the traits of majesty sublime, Unhonored weep the silent lapse of time, Spread their wild grandeur to th' unconscious sky, In sweetest seasons pass unheeded by; While scarce one muse returns the songs they gave, Or seeks to snatch their glories from the grave.

P

THE SUSQUEHANNA.

Hail, charming river! pure transparent flood! Unstain'd by noxious swamps or choaking mud; Thundering through broken rocks in whirling foam Or pleas'd o'er beds of glittering sand to roam; Green be thy banks, sweet forest-wandering stream! Still may thy waves with finny treasures teem; The silvery shad and salmon crowd thy shores, Thy tall woods echoing to the sounding oars, On thy swol'n bosom floating piles appear, Fill'd with the harvests of our rich frontier : Thy pine-brown'd cliffs, thy deep romantic vales, Where wolves now wander, and the panther wails, Where, at long intervals, the hut forlorn Peeps from the verdure of embowering corn, In future times, (nor distant far the day,) Shall glow with crowded towns and villas gay;

Unnumber'd keels thy deepen'd course divide;
And airy arches pompously bestride;
The domes of science and religion rise,
And millions swarm where now a forest lies...

MEANS OF EDUCATION IN THE UNITED STATES...

To nurse the arts and fashion freedom's lore Young schools of science rise along the shore; Great without pomp, their modest walls expand, Harvard and Yale and Princeton grace the land, Penn's student halls, his youths with gladness greet, On James's bank Virginian muses meet, Manhattan's mart collegiate domes command, Bosom'd in groves, see growing Dartmouth stand; Bright o'er its realm reflecting solar fires, On yon tall hill Rhode-Island's seat aspires.

Thousands of humbler name around them rise, Where homebred freemen seize the solid prize; Fixt in small spheres, with safer beams to shine, They reach the useful and refuse the fine. Found, on its proper base, the social plan, The broad plain truths, the common sense of man, His obvious wants, his mutual aids discern, His rights familiarize, his duties learn, Feel moral fitness all its force dilate, Embrace the village and comprise the state. Each rustic here who turns the furrow'd soil, The maid, the youth that ply mechanic toil, In equal rights, in useful arts inured, Know their just claims, and see their claims secured; They watch their delegates, each law revise, Its faults designate and its merits prize, Obey, but scrutinize; and let the test

Of sage experience prove and fix the best,

THE SCHOOLMASTER.

Of all professions that this world has known, From clowns and cobblers upwards to the throne;

From the grave architect of Greece and Rome,
Down to the framer of a farthing broom,
The worst for care and undeserv'd abuse,
The first in real dignity and use,
(If skill'd to teach and diligent to rule)
Is the learn'd master of a little school.
Not he who guides the legs, or skills the clown
To square his fists, and knock his fellow down;
Not he who shows the still more barbarous art
To parry thrusts and pierce th' unguarded heart;.
But that good man, who faithful to his charge,
Still toils the opening reason to enlarge;
And leads the growing mind, through every stage,
From humble A, B, C, to God's own page;
From black, rough pothooks, horrid to the sight,
To fairest lines that float o'er purest white;
From numeration, through an opening way,
Till dark annuities seem clear as day;
Pours o'er the mind a flood of mental light,
Expands its wings, and gives it powers for flight,
Till earth's remotest bounds, and heaven's bright train,
He trace, weigh, measure, picture and explain,

A VISION.

On distant heaths, beneath autumnal skies,.
Pensive, I saw the circling shades descend ;-
Weary and faint, I heard the storm arise,
While the sun vanish'd like a faithless friend.

No kind companion led my steps aright;
No friendly planet lent its glimm'ring ray;
Eren the lone cot refus'd its wonted light,
Where toil in peaceful slumber clos'd the day.

Then the dull bell had given a pleasing sound,
The village cur 'twere transport then to hear;
In dreadful silence all was hush'd around,
While the rude storm alone distress'd mine ear,.

As led by Orwell's winding banks I stray'd,
Where tow'ring Walsey breath'd his native air,
A sudden lustre chas'd the flitting shade,
The sounding winds were hush'd and all was fair,

Instant a graceful form appear'd confest;
White were his locks, with awful scarlet crown'd,
And livelier far than Tyrian seem'd his vest,
That with he glowing purple ting'd the ground.

" Stranger," he said, " amid this pealing rain,
Benighted, lonesome, whither wouldst thou stray
Does wealth or power thy weary steps constrain?
Reveal thy wish, and let me point the
way.

"For know, I trod the trophy'd paths of pow'r;
Felt every joy that fair ambition brings,
And left the lonely roof of yonder bow'r
To stand beneath the canopies of kings.

"I bade low hinds the tow'ring ardor share,
Nor meanly rose to bless myself alone;
I snatch'd the shepherd from his fleecy care,
And bade his wholesome dictate guard the throne..

Low at my feet the suppliant peer I saw;
I saw proud empires my decision wait;
My will was duty, and my word was law,
My smile was transport, and my frown was fate.

Ah me! said I, nor pow'r I seek, nor gain;
Nor urg'd by hope of fame these toils endure;
A simple youth, that feels a lover's pain,
And from his friend's condolence hopes a cure..

He, the dear youth, to whose abodes I roam,
Nor can my honors or my fields extend;
Yet for his sake I leave my distant home,
Which oaks imbosom, and which hills defend,

Beneath that home I scorn the wint'ry wind;
The Spring, to shade me, robs her fairest tree,

And if a friend my grass-grown threshold find,
O how my lonely cot resounds with glee.

Yet, tho' averse to gold in heaps amass'd,
I wish to bless, I languish to bestow
And tho' no friend to fame's obstrep'rous blast,
Still to her dulcet murmurs not a foe.

Too proud with servile tone to deign address;
Too mean to think that honors are my due;
Yet should some patron yield my stores to bless,
I sure should deem my boundless thanks were few.

But tell me, thou! that, like a meteor's fire
Shot'st blazing forth, disdaining dull degrees,
Should I to wealth, to fame, to power aspire,
Must I not pass more rugged paths than these?

Must I not groan beneath a guilty load?
Praise him I scorn, and him I love betray ?
Does not felonious envy bar the road?
Or falsehood's treach'rous foot beset the way?

Say, should I pass thro' favor's crowded gate,
Must not fair truth inglorious wait behind ?
Whilst I approach the glittering scenes of state,
My best companion no admittance find?

Nurs'd in the shades by freedom's lenient care,
Shall I the rigid sway of fortune own?
Taught by the voice of pious truth. prepare
To spurn an altar, and adore a throne ?

And when proud fortune's ebbing tide recedes,
And when it leaves me no unshaken friend,
Shall I not weep that e'er I left the meads,
Which oaks imbosom, and which hills defend?

O! if these ills the price of pow'r advance,
Check not my speed, where social joys invite;
The troubled vision cast a mournful glance,
And, sighing, vanish'd in the shades of night.