In in a large portion of the reading public. 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 "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, Who [whom] Fame's bright meed, and Fortune's fame Shall stand contrasted with her present shame, 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 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 To fall in the first breath of Spring at last. He is no honest son of mother Earth, And shames the holy dame that gave him birth; gay, Bearing upon its broad expansive brim That hail the evening with their mingled strain; Yes-thus to sit in some gay solitude, The firmness evinced by BASIL in the maintenance of his purpose, in despite of the fearful but friendly prognostics of his "But Basil still his manly heart sustain'd, And, so he eats enough, for neither cares; That heaven would speed him on his lonely way; By all, save him, full many a year forgot, 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 Our native Eagle makes his high abode; 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 And seem'd to threaten from their shatter'd brow, To crush the vessels all becalm❜d below, power, Shot but a keener pang through his sad heart, Potent to sooth his hours of health erewhile; stand, Grasping with fond solicitude his hand, 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. Then sunk the breeze into a breathless calm, 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, go, And seem to crush the shrinking rocks below: While trees that not an hour before had stood Dash 'gainst the rocks that breast the torrent's force, And shiver like a reed by urchin broke, And as with foaming fury down they go, sprung, Like serpents, menacing with forked tongue, And struggle for the mastery of the hour; 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! |