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in a large portion of the reading public.
The tide of emigration from the eastern to
the western sections of the union, is flow-
ing with a force and constancy not ex-
ceeded by that which is annually pouring
into the States the superfluous population
of Europe. In one respect, America is
perhaps more completely in possession of
the substantial advantages of literature
than any country we could name.
other lands we may find brighter names
in the field of learning and the Belles
Lettres; the few are cultivated and po-
lished, but the mass is gross and igno-
rant; the lights of intelligence burn
within a narrow and restricted sphere,
and though their radiance be powerful,
their influence is feeble. In America,
on the contrary, the stream of knowledge
flows in channels broad, deep, and innu-
merable, a common and universal bless-
ing; and the result is, a spirit of intelli-
gence in the great body of her people, that
is not to be found among any other nation
of the globe. In America, the advanta-
ges of education are open to all, and by
all are they partaken. But few are
deeply learned, and ignorance is the lot
of as few. Every citizen can read and
write; and where this is the case, we
need not lament that polite literature, or
the abstrusenesses of metaphysics are re-
garded with comparative indifference and
coldness. Thus it was a thing to be ex-
pected, that a poem like "THE BACK-
WOODSMAN," the scene of which is laid in
regions to which so many thousands of an
enterprising and intelligent population
are directing their views, and in which
the principal character is of the same de.

ted with the fine influence of moral and patriotic sentiment which breathes throughout its pages, were accepted, and even welcomed, as rich offerings on the shrine of the American muses. That work may justly be said to hold a medium rank between the productions (inimitable in their way) of Butler and the effusions of Prior; and surely this is praise of no mean value. Mr. Paulding's next production was "JOHN BULL AND BROTHER JONATHAN," a humorous volume, in which the progress of the colonies, from their first settlement to their establishment as independent and sovereign states, is related in a style of broad caricature, of which the works of Smollet present the first and finest examples. But the last, and, in our opinion, the best of Mr. Paulding's prose works, is the "LETTERS FROM THE SOUTH," (a critique on which will be found in this Magazine for January, 1818, p. 233.) In this interesting production, the various powers of the author are seen to the best advantage. Satire and pathos-worldly knowledge combined with generous sentiment—a spirit of pure and elevated patriotism, which, however, does not induce him to dissemble, nor prevent him from lashing, the faults of his countrymen-a fine and unaffected sensibility to the charms of external nature-and a flow of language vivacious, ardent, and occasionally almost poetical, render this, to us at least, by far the most attractive of Mr. Paulding's works. If in the poem now before us, there be found many passages of distinguished and superior merit, still we consider it our duty to say, that its beauties are neither so considerable nor continuous as to ensure it that high and~scription with themselves, coming too lasting esteem we could wish to see awarded to every production of so eminent a name. As a poem made to sell, the author judged wisely, perhaps, in the choice of his subject. The cultivation and rapid improvement of the western territory, has of late excited considerable interest in all classes; and the adventures of a back-settler, and his rise from indigence to comparative wealth, could scarcely fail to create a lively feeling of curiosity

from an individual not more celebrated for the strength of his talents, than the ardour of his patriotism, should find a very considerable number of readers even in a country where poetry is the department of literature that will, in all probability, be the last cultivated. But while we would give all due praise to Mr. Paulding for the sagacity he has evinced in the scheme of his poem, we must, without reservation, enter our pro

The following are the author's reasons for sending forth his poem in its present state, to the eyes of his countrymen.

test against his taste. Poetry seeks her ed to the epic strain-tant pis-our moresources in the marvellous and magnifi- dern Evanders, not we, must answer for cent, the pathetic and the beautiful; and, it. whether it be in her paintings from animate or inanimate nature, her fire is damped, and her pencil languishes in the portraiture of ordinary forms and character. Her business is not with the multitude, but the individual. She delights in the superlative and aristocratic. She subsists by inequality, and has nothing to do with republicanism, but to eulogize its spirit as displayed in characters whose superior worth and abilities place them as highly above their political equals as a sultan above his slaves. Now, the hero of Mr. Paulding, it strikes us, and in the composition we think it struck him also, is a person about as little adapted to shine in a poetical garb or capacity as can well be imagined. Mr. P.'s" Backwoodsman" is the fac-simile of all other backwoodsmen;

and we have been enabled to trace in his character no such superior attributes and energies as would exalt him above his brethren of the wilderness. Courage, fortitude, enterprize, and perseverance, are the qualities not more of one than all; and in the virtues of piety and temperance, the last a virtue as much of necessity as inclination, BASIL is but the equal of his compeers. Positively, he is something-nothing comparatively-an excellent husband, a good father, patient of Jabour and fatigue, pious, and of sound morals, he is a worthy member of society, but a quaker would not quarrel with his heroism.

Nor are the occupations of Basil of a loftier description than his personal character. Hewing trees, digging, delving, ploughing, sowing, and reaping, are doubtless, all of them, respectable avocations, but make no very splendid figure in heroic song: but if we will make the trump of fame resound with the adventures and exploits of backwoodsmen and rustics, turn farmers into heroes, and ploughmen into princes, how are we to act? We can only relate what they do, and if what they do happens to be not altogether suit

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"That the author may not be charged with having failed in what he did not attempt, it may be as well, perhaps, to state the extent of the design of the following poem. His object was to indicate to the youthful writers of his native country, the rich poetic resources with which it abounds, as well as to call their attention home, for the means of attaining to novelty of subject, if not to originality in style or sentiment. Ths story was merely assumed as affording greater variety of scenery, as well as more an easy and natural way of introducing a diversity of character; and whether the writer shall ever attempt to complete his regular plan, will principally depend on the original intention in the construction of a reception given to this experiment. Some reasons, of no consequence to the public, induce him to state that the present work was begun more than five years ago, so far as the intention, and the preparation of some scanty materials, may be said to con stitute a beginning. In three or four inry have been borrowed from former publistances, some descriptions of natural scenecations of the author, as being more properly adapted to a work of this nature."

Now this we conceive to be a very insufficient apology, betraying the writer's consciousness of all the objections we have urged against his plan, and containing a full admission that the state of society in America, however admirable in other respects, and superior to what we find it in other countries, does not, at present, furnish materials either sufficiently abundant or various for the higher spe cies of poetry, In truth, it is this very superiority that militates against its poetic capabilities-and while in a political point of view, nothing can be more gratifying than the happy independence enjoyed by all classes of the American people, the reasons are too obvious to require illustrating at great length, why this political blessing is hostile to poetry aiming at thé development of sublime or striking character. The social scheme is too plain and level for the muse. There can be no contrast where all is uniform. Where

all are free, high spirited, and intelligent, the monarchal elevation of character, and grandeur, as well as brilliancy of incident, in which poetry delights, can have no existence. The ambition of the few is repressed by the equality of all,or turned into channels, which, though they may be morally noble and publicly beneficial, afford but like scope to the imagination; while the stream of life is rarely, if ever, ruffled by those fiercer passions and transports of the soul, whose display gives to all powerful and interesting poetry its chief glory and attraction.

We shall take some other occasion to expatiate on the conviction we expressed at the commencement of this article, as to the future eminence of America, in the regions of poetry. We now proceed to the examination of Mr. Paulding's poem, from which we intend extracting such passages, as we conceive will display the talents of the celebrated author to the best advantage.

The story may be told in few words. Somewhere on the banks of the Hudson dwelt a young and worthy, but obscure individual, by name BASIL. Industrious and persevering, he was scarcely able, nevertheless, to provide for his family, the means of daily support. With a sad but resolute heart he still continued to toil, till the strength of his arm was palsied by sickness. In this distressful state he languishes through an entire winter. On the return of spring, health and vigour are restored to his frame, and he resumes his labours in the fields. At length he hears of the fair and fertile regions of the West, where, with the same efforts that now barely furnish himself and family with food, he is told he may soon attain to competence. He resolves to migrate, and the remainder of the poem details his journey, his establishment, and progress from poverty to comparative, and at length actual, wealth. The narrative is enlivened by the introduction of Indian character, and a war between the aborigines and the new settlers. The latter are victorious, and the poem concludes

with BASIL'S graduation through various offices of high trust and importance.

The invocation, we think, is conceived with vigour and felicity, if we except the ninth line, which we pronounce an unadulterated sample of the bathos.

"Neglected Muse! of this our western clime, How long in servile, imitative rhyme, Wilt thou thy stifled energies impart, And miss the path that leads to every heart? Warm'd by thy native fires, led by thy native How long repress the brave decisive flight, light?

Thrice happy he who first shall strike the lyre,
He need not envy any favour'd bard,
With homebred feeling and with homebred fire;

Who [whom] Fame's bright meed, and Fortune's
Secure, that wheresoe'er this empire rolls,
smiles reward;
Or east, or west, or tow'rd the firm fixed poles,
While Europe's ancient honours fade away,
And sink the glories of her better day,
When, like degenerate Greece, her former

fame

Shall stand contrasted with her present shame,
And all the splendours of her bright career
Shall die away, to be relighted here,
And love the author of the happy verse.
A race of myriads will the tale rehearse,
Come then, neglected Muse! and try with me
The untrack'd path-'tis death or victory;
Let Chance or Fate decide, or critics will,
No fame I lose-I am but nothing still."

Nor is the apostrophe to Independence written with less spirit.

O! Independence! man's bright mental sun, With blood and tears by our brave country won, The nerve of steel, the soul that meanness scorns, Parent of all, high mettled man adorns, The mounting wind that spurns the tyrant's The eagle eye that mocks the God of day, Turns on the lordly upstart scorn for scorn, And drops its lid to none of woman born! With blood, and tears, and hardships thou wert bought,

sway,

Yet rich the blessings thy bright sway has wrought;

Hence comes it, that a gallant spirit reigns
Unknown among old Europe's hapless swains,
Who slaves to some proud lord, himself a slave,
From sire to son, from cradle to the grave,
From race to race, more dull and servile grow,
Until at last they nothing feel or know.
Hence comes it, that our meanest farmer's boy
Aspires to taste the proud and manly joy
The land he ploughs, the home he seeks at night:
That springs from holding in his own dear right
And hence it comes, he leaves his friends and
Mid distant wilds and dangers drear to roam,
home,
To seek a competence, or find a grave,
Rather than live a hireling or a slave.
Like sunny ocean ripping in the breeze,
As the bright waving harvest field he sees,
And hears the lowing herd, the lambkins' bleat,
His heart sits lightly on its rustic throne,
Fall on his ear in mingled concert sweet,
The fields, the herds, the flocks are all his own.

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The description of spring possesses con- neighbours, gives occasion to the followsiderable beauty and liveliness, and the ing portrait of a free-born and noble spieffect of the whole is greatly increased rit. by the images of intellectual delight contained in the concluding lines.

"Now laughing Spring came on, and birds, in pairs,

Chirp'd in the lively woods, while balmy airs
And warming beams, no more with frosts at strife
Wak'd from its trance the genial tide of life,
That as it flow'd through Nature's swelling veins,
Freed every pulse from Winter's icy chains,
Tinted her mantling cheek with rosy hue,
And call'd her vernal beauties all to view;
The swelling buds forth from their coverts sprung,
And push'd away the wither'd leaves that hung
Whispering through many a shivering wint'ry
blast,

To fall in the first breath of Spring at last.
Like dead men, in their graves forgot, they lie,
Unmark'd by all, save some lone musing eye
That marvels much, and idly, on its way,
Men, with such cause to weep, should be so gay.
Who can resist the coaxing voice of Spring,
When flowers put forth and sprightly songsters
sing?

He is no honest son of mother Earth,

And shames the holy dame that gave him birth;
We are her children, and when forth she hies,
Dress'd in her wedding suit of varied dyes,
Beshrew the churl that does not feel her charms,
And love to nestle in her blooming arins;
He has no heart, or such a heart as I
Would not possess for all beneath the sky:
For thus to sit upon the clover'd brow
Of some full bosom'd hill as I do now,
And see the river, wind its happy way,
Round jutting points, with Spring's blest verdure

gay,

Bearing upon its broad expansive brim
A flock of little barques that gayly skim
Backward and forth, as wayward zephyrs blow,
Like buoyant swans, all white as wint'ry snow;
And hear the distant waves so faintly roar
On the white sand, or whiter pebbled shore,
Mix'd with the whip-poor-will, and warbling
train,

That hail the evening with their mingled strain;
And, over all, to see the sun's last rays
Gild the glad world, and make the forests
blaze.-

Yes-thus to sit in some gay solitude,
And call around him Memory's shadowy brood,
By turning to the folded leaf to look
For some sweet record, in Time's sacred book,
That brings to mind a train of gentle themes,
Ideal joys, and sprites of long past dreams
Of happy times, I never may forget,
That thrill with no sharp pang of keen regret,
But like the splendours of a summer day,
Amid the western clouds more sweetly play,
Reflected in the skies when day is past,
Each varying hue still softer than the last-
This is my happiness-and those who know
A surer path to peace on Earth below,
May keep it to themselves-I lack it not,
Content with what I am-and with my lot."

The firmness evinced by BASIL in the maintenance of his purpose, in despite of the fearful but friendly prognostics of his

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"But Basil still his manly heart sustain'd,
And to his daring purpose firm remain'd;
Hope was his guide, and led by that bright lure,
Man can the keenest rubs of life endure.
He was no haughty lordling's humble slave,
Stript of the mantle that his Maker gave:
No dull unletter'd hireling, whose starv'd mind
Just leaves, and hardly leaves the beast behind;
Who chains and stripes with equal calmness
bears,

And, so he eats enough, for neither cares;
Fit tenant for some little lord, who serves
Some little king, and what he gives, deserves.
No! though the poorest of a poor man's race,
Our Basil was not born to such disgrace;
He felt that he was free, and that one word,
In his proud heart, a noble spirit stirr'd,
Whose gallant thrilling through his pulses ran,
And made him feel, and know himself a man.
He shook their outstretch'd hands, and bade
them pray

That heaven would speed him on his lonely way;
Then sought the aged tree, beneath whose shade
His sire, and mother, side by side were laid,
Leant o'er the simple mounds that mark'd the
spot,

By all, save him, full many a year forgot,
And pray'd to live a life of honest fame,
And leave behind, like them, a spotless name."

The scenery on the banks of the Hudson is sketched in a masterly manner, and the emotions of Basil on taking a last and affectionate farewell of his friends and neighbours, are expressed with great tenderness and beauty of language. ·

"In truth it was a landscape wildly gay
That 'neath his lofty vision smiling lay;
A sea of mingling hills, with forests crown'd,
E'en to their summits, waving all around,
Save where some rocky steep aloft was seen,
Frowning amid the wild romantic scene,
Around whose brow, where human step ne'er
trode,

Our native Eagle makes his high abode;
Oft in the warring of the whistling gales,
Amid the scampering clouds, he bravely sails,
Without an effort winds the loftiest sky,
And looks into the Sun with steady eye:
Emblem and patron of this fearless land,
He mocks the might of any mortal hand,
And, proudly seated on his native rock,
Defies the World's accumulated shock.
Here, mid the piling mountains scatter'd round,
His winding way majestic Hudson found,
And as he swept the frowning ridge's base
In the pure mirror of his morning face,
A lovelier landscape caught the gazer's view,
Softer than nature, yet to nature true.
Now might be seen, reposing in stern pride,
Against the mountain's steep and rugged side,
High Putnam's battlements, like tow'r of old,
Haunt of night-robbing baron, stout and bold,
Scourge of his neighbour, Nimrod of the chase,
Slave of his king, and tyrant of his race.
Beneath its frowning brow, and far below,
The weltering waves, unheard, were seen to flow

Round West-Point's rude and adamantine base, That call'd to mind old Arnold's deep disgrace, Andre's hard fate, lamented, though deserv'd, And men, who from their duty never swerv'd The HONEST THREE-the pride of yeomen bold, Who sav'd the country which they might have sold;

Refus'd the proffer'd bribe, and, sternly true, Did what the man that doubts them ne'er would do.

Yes! if the Scroll of never-dying Fame
Shall tell the truth, 'twill bear each lowly name;
And while the wretched man, who vainly tried
To wound their honour, and his country's pride,
Shall moulder in the dirt from whence he came,
Forgot, or only recollected to his shame,
Quoted shall be these gallant, honest men,
By many a warrior's voice, and poet's pen,
To wake the sleeping spirit of the land,
And nerve with energy the patriot band.
Beyond, on either side the river's bound,
Two lofty promontories darkly frown'd,
Thro' which, in times long past, as learned say,
The pent up waters forc'd their stubborn way;
Grimly they frown'd, as menacing the wave
That storm'd their bulwarks with its current
brave,

And seem'd to threaten from their shatter'd

brow,

To crush the vessels all becalm❜d below,
Whose white sails, hanging idly at the mast,
O'er the still waves a deep reflection cast.
Still farther off, the Kaatskill, bold and high,
Kiss'd the pure concave of the arched sky,
Mingled with that its waving lines of blue,
And shut the world beyond from mortal view.
Poor Basil gaz'd with dim and sorrowing eyes,
And seem'd again the morning mists to rise,
While every object that in happier hour
Had often charm'd him with its wak'ning

power,

Shot but a keener pang through his sad heart,
And made him more unwilling to depart.
So to the dying man, the fairest scene
But marks his fate with agonies more keen;
The Sun's bright rays, the Morning's mellow
smile

Potent to sooth his hours of health erewhile;
The willow tufted stream, that shuns the day,
Yet by soft murmurs does its haunt betray;
The warblers of the woodland, sweet and wild,
That oft, in better days, his steps beguil'd;
The forms he loves that round him weeping

stand,

Grasping with fond solicitude his hand,
As if with tender violence to stay
The tiptoe spirit on its airy way;-
All, all combin'd, but give the fatal dart
A deadlier venom, and a keener smart;
Dearer each friend, each object than before,
Just as we leave them, ne'er to see 'em more:
'Tis this which makes the bitterness of death,
Which else were nothing, but the loss of breath."

The following description of the approach of evening, is as beautiful in its way as any thing we recollect to have read. In eighteen lines the author has collected every circumstance and object appertaining to the time and scene.

"The haze of gathering twilight Nature shrouds, And pale, and paler, wax the changeful clouds.

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Then sunk the breeze into a breathless calm,
The silent dews of evening dropt like balm:
The hungry nighthawk from his lone haunt hies,
To chase the viewless insect through the skies;
The bat began his lantern-loving fight,
The lonely whip-poor-will, our bird of night,
Ever unseen, yet ever seeming near,
His shrill note quaver'd in the startled ear;
The buzzing beetle forth did gayly hie,
With idle hum, and careless blund'ring eye;
The little trusty watchman of pale night,
The firefly, trimm'd anew his lamp so bright,
And took his merry airy circuit round
The sparkling meadow's green and fragrant
bound,
Where blossom'd clover, bath'd in balmy dew,
In fair luxuriance, sweetly blushing grew."

On their way our wanderers are caught. in a storm-a sudden blackness involves the atmosphere-the breeze ceases to breathe-all is still-and not a sound is heard, save a low far-off murmur.

"The riddle soon was read-at last it came,
And Nature trembled to her inmost frame;
The forest roar'd, the everlasting oak
In writhing agonies the storm bespoke,
The live leaves scatter'd wildly every where,
Whirl'd round in madd'ning circles in the air,
The stoutest limbs were scatter'd all around,
The stoutest trees a stouter master found,
Crackling, and crashing, down they thund'ring

go,

And seem to crush the shrinking rocks below:
Then the thick rain in gathering torrents pour'd,
Higher the river rose and louder roar'd,
And on its dark, quick eddying surface bore
The gather'd spoils of Earth along its shore,

While trees that not an hour before had stood
The lofty monarchs of the stately wood,
Now whirling round and round with furious
force,

Dash 'gainst the rocks that breast the torrent's force,

And shiver like a reed by urchin broke,
Through idle mischief, or with heedless stroke;
A hundred cataracts, unknown before,
Rush down the mountain's side with fearful
roar,

And as with foaming fury down they go,
Loose the firm rocks and thunder them below;
Blue lightnings from the dark cloud's bosom

sprung,

Like serpents, menacing with forked tongue,
While many a sturdy oak that stiffly brav'd
The threat'ning hurricane that round it rav'd,
Shiver'd beneath its bright resistless flash,
Came tumbling down amain with fearful crash.
Air, Earth, and Skies, seem'd now to try their
pow'r,

And struggle for the mastery of the hour;
Higher the waters rose, and blacker still,
And threaten'd soon the narrow vale to fill."

At last they arrive on the banks of the Ohio; the address to which commences in a strain of considerable sweetness, and closes with an animated and exulting prophecy of the future glories of the west.

"Sweet river of the West! a purer wave, A fairer region never yet did lave!

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