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3.

Thou still must love me on through weal and wo,
Howe'er the wall between us hath been set;
They cannot teach thy bosom not to know,
'Tis now, with parting only, comes regret.
Thou knowest I love thee, and thine eyes will flow,
To think how mine must ever more be wet;
By these I triumph-these defeat their blow,
These dare thee, these defy thee to forget.

tive playfulness to the shore, whilst ever and anon is | By all the love thou gav'st me and still hast,
heard the stroke of the oar, as the merry fisherman My heart defies thine ever to forget.
skims along the surface in his light canoe. Beyond it,
and along the opposite banks, lays an open plain,
stretching away for some miles, through which runs
the public highway. To the right and left, the lands
are divided by cross fences, into extensive fields; in
some the rich harvest-now ripe for the sickle, presents
a miniature picture of the undulations of the ocean;
whilst in others, are seen herds of cattle and sheep, graz-
ing at leisure, or reposing under the shade of some
solitary tree. Several dwelling houses are situated
within the plain. The groups of trees, artificially ar-
ranged, about these-their gardens, their orchards and
farm yards, lend an air of rural life to the prospect,
which renders it doubly joyous and interesting. On
the outer side, this open tract is girded by forests, which
apparently extend continuously as far as the eye can
Yet still ye are lovely, and still I adore ;
reach. Changing our position, and looking in another Lips, lips, ye have been my undoing,
direction, we behold the creek, after tracing it through
Yet still I must love ye, and love ever more;
all its meanderings, disembogue into the Potomac. Upon Ye are fatal to fame and I give up endeavor,
her bosom we see hundreds of vessels, and a faint outline I seek but to bask in the smile ye bestow;
of the blue misty coasts of Maryland is the last fea-Ye bid me despair of my hope, and O! never,
ture which we distinctly recognize. This may convey
My spirit may dream of enjoyment below.
a general idea of the face of our country.

And now, Mr. Editor, the period is at hand when your correspondent's series should end. Wayward has been his life; from it his scribblings receive their impress. Widely has he diverged from the course originally planned. Writing simply for amusement, he has acted but from the impulses of inclination, and ably sus tained the very dignified signature assumed. The dread of approaching winter congeals both ink and blood, and ere the blasts of old Boreas are rocking to and fro the time-worn branches of his oaken cell, he proposes to vacate his home, and doff his cognomen. We may, perchance, meet again, though with the desertion of the oak, be announced the death, of your friend Westmoreland, Nov. 3d.

EARLY LAYS,

NUGATRITE.

BY W. GILMORE SIMMS.

I.

I DEFY THEE TO FORGET.

1.

They have torn us apart; but by those angel eyes,
By the sweet glance they gave when first we met,
By our first vow, so warm yet so unwise,

That still must cheer me when all hope has set;
By my fond murmurs, by thy faint replies,

By each dear memory truly cherished yet, Thy failing accents and thy speaking sighs, I dare thee, I defy thee to forget.

2.

By all we both must cherish of the past,

When thy dark eyes beneath my glance were wet;
That passionate kiss, the dearest as the last,
Whose sweetness on my lips is ling'ring yet ;--
Thy solemn vow to share with me the blast,

Nor in the world's scorn suffer one regret ;

II.

EYES, EYES, YE HAVE LED ME TO RUIN.
1.

Eyes, eyes, ye have led me to ruin,

2.

Wherefore, young heart, so cruelly sinning,

So sadly 'gainst nature, and beauty and youth,
With eyes so bright, and with lips so winning,
Why so forbidding to feeling and truth?
Can'st thou not love, while evermore lavishing,
Each charming feature of feeling and faith,
Nor let eyes so bright, nor let lips so ravishing,
Doom me forever to sorrow and scath.

III.

WELL, IF THAT DREAM OF BLISS.

1.

Well, if that dream of bliss be over,
That moved so deeply heart and brain,
I am not that insensate lover,

To lose and then to love again :
The hour that tells me hope has vanished,
An hour of freedom cannot be;
As well assure the wretch that's banish'd
From home and country, he is free.
2.

'Tis true that gallant barques may bear him,
To other shores as bright as this,
And eyes may warm and lips may cheer him,
With gleams and promises of bliss ;
But, were he blind to every aspect
Of stormy sorrow in his gaze,
He could not lose that lovelier prospect,
That charmed him in his earlier days.
3.

The exiled heart may never cherish-
Since from its hope forever gone,-
One lingering dream that will not perish,
With that, the first-beloved one.
Far on the seas of memory roving,

Destined to watch, yet still deplore;
His passions, like its tempests proving,
His hopes, the wrecks that strew its shore.

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Oh, weep not, I pray thee, when memory shall waken The thought of the bard thou hast loved, in thy breast;

Could he deem that thy heart in that thought would be shaken,

His own grief would never, even now, be repress'd: No! the song that, to win thee, his lyre has given,

Was pour'd in thine ear in a moment of bliss ; Let its memory not darken the smiles of that heaven, Which has mingled the joys of the future with this. 2.

And when in thy bow'r of home thou repeatest

The strain, that, for thine, his fond spirit has wrought, With the voice that to him is the dearest and sweetest, Since it rouses the dearest and sweetest of thought; Then the minstrel,-perchance in that hour long departed,

As the song thou awakest in rapture upsprings, Will listen and linger around thee, lighthearted, If no sad tear of memory from thee touch the strings.

VI.

BE IT FOLLY OR FRENZY.

1.

Be it folly or frenzy, so sweet the delusion,

I would not, for worlds, it should cease to be so;
And deep were the guilt of that busy intrusion,
Which by truth or by reason that folly would show.
The world is a painful deceit, and the pleasure,
The only true pleasure we find in it here,
Is when we can shut our eyes to the measure,
So full and o'erflowing, we drink of its care.
2.

What better than frenzy, this evil disguising,
And the dream which beguiles us, predominant prizing,
If, mentally blinded, we see not our chain,
Refuse to look down on our fetters of pain?
We see not the straw in the cell that receives us,

We feel not the scourge which would torture us still;
We know not the guile in the heart which relieves us,
And life has no evil, and nature, no ill.
3.

Why waken the dreamer, when bright to his vision,
Seems the life that, on waking, his spirit deplores;
Why torture that spirit, whose hopes are elysian,
Call it folly or frenzy, but, O! in my madness,
With the gloom and reverse that attend upon yours?

Forbear to enlighten-my heart is at stake;

I dream, it is true, but my dreams are all gladness, All grateful, all glorious, and why should I wake?

VII.

WHEN THE HOPES OF THE HEART.

1.

When the hopes of the heart thou so dearly hast cherished,

Till even in its wreck it has carried thine own, 'Neath the frowns of its kindred and people have

perished,

Denied all their promise, their splendors all gone; Thou wilt weep, I am sure, o'er the desolate ruin,

Thou wilt cherish the feeling once sacred and pure, And muse, with sad thoughts, over fortune's undoing, Refining the sorrows that still must endure.

2.

Thou wilt not forget, though to this they would bring thee,

That the exile they hate has reposed in thy arms; And the venom'd reproach which they utter will sting thee,

And rob all the bloom from thy sunniest charms; They will teach, thou wilt feel, that the love which had won him,

"Till, duty forgotten, he ceased to be free, Was the source of that spell which in truth has undone him,

And made him forgetful of all things but thee.

3.

And when the sweet hours shall return of our meeting, The long summer eve, in our moonhallow'd grove, When thy heart press'd to mine, in its rapture was beating,

fate has been as hard with posterity as it certainly was with his contemporaries, and whose example affords another proof that after-ages, are frequently as unjust, as our own is generally neglectful of sterling talent and well-earned fame. In the discourses which MACHIAVEL wrote on the Decades of Livy, he has unfolded with a masterly hand the principles and policy by which the

And we had not a thought, not a feeling but love; Oh, then thou wilt sigh for the bliss that's departed, More dear from the sorrow which follow'd it still;-grandeur of the Roman Republic was reared, and Oh, then thou wilt weep for the lone and sad hearted, That, blessed by thy love, even Hate could not kill.

VIII.

WE ARE ONE.

1.

Tomorrow-tomorrow!-
The sound, to my heart,
Comes linked with a sorrow;

Tomorrow we part.

The dream which has made us

Forgetful so long,

At last has betray'd us

To madness and wrong.

2.

And deep for the error

Our hearts must atone,
Thus taught by the terror,
That finds us alone:
With every stay shiver'd,
With every hope fled;
Our vessels dissever'd,
And storm overhead.
3.

But vain, the cold hearted,
Our spirits would shake;
We cannot be parted,

Not e'en at the stake! That truth still is left us, Else hopeless, undone,—` Our love's not bereft us,We are one-we are one.

Machiavel's Political Discourses

UPON THE FIRST DECADE OF LIVY. Qui nous dèlivera dés Grècs et dès Romains? is a question which has long since become a proverb in France. The history, the heroes and the mythology of the ancients, have for ages been divested of the interest which novelty never fails to impart; and the taste of the scholar leads him rather to avoid, than to repeat them. Their laws, their constitutions and their polity, however, seem to have escaped the general eye-though when thoroughly examined, they will be found to contain most excellent theories of political philosophy. The president Montesquieu, with his accustomed ability, has chalked out their origin and progress, their cause and their effects. For many of his profoundest ideas and most comprehensive views, upon this, as well as upon many other subjects, he is indebted to an author whose

thrown out with lavish prodigality some of the profoundest maxims of political wisdom that are recorded in the annals of government or the writings of constitutional lawyers. It is not our purpose at present, to notice all his works, or to rescue his character from the obloquy under which it has for centuries suffered. This generous task has been performed by many wise and eminent men, from the time of Lord Bacon down to the present; and the day perhaps is not distant, when his character will be as fully understood and his fame as freely acknowledged in other countries, as they are already in his own. We shall confine ourselves in this article to his discourses, and, following its pages, endeavor to trace to its true sources and deep-laid principles, that enormous power which the Roman Republic for so many ages maintained over the nations of the earth.

They who read history merely to know dates and facts, turn a most delightful study into a dry and barren task. A knowledge of past events, can be of little service to those who seek it to pass time, or who desire to impose upon society by making a display of their crude and cumbersome erudition. They become a nuisance in proportion to the progress which they make, and grow in impertinence as they increase in learning. Having few ideas of their own to display, they store their minds with insulated facts and detached sentences, and hope to supply by bare memory the want of imagination and judgment. They do not make themselves wiser or better by study; and in trying to impose upon ignorance by a gravity which is as false as it is unmeaning, they find that they have stretched the credulity of men too far, and wonder that others do not mistake their dulness for genius and their prolixity for eloquence. But the philosophic student of history will bend his mind to the causes and the effects of things; to the lives of great men and the customs of great nations. He will inquire by what means and by what arts states have been built, and will follow them in their swift march to wealth and dominion. He will keep his eye on the looseness of morals and discipline brought about by the growth of luxury, and will mark the silent changes produced in the manners and customs of the people by rising commerce and the arts of peace. While he does not overlook the ravages of time, he will closely watch the stealth of power from the many to the few, until vice becomes too universal to be either. borne or remedied, and the state at first begins to slide and at last to rush to ruin. Having gazed at the annals of past ages as a venerable monument, he will hold up for our imitation whatever is worthy of being a model, and will warn us to shun that which has already proved base in its design and base in its end. Living in a free state, he cannot but desire to follow the footsteps of the ancient republics, which sprang from small beginnings to be the mistresses of the world, and whose example if it does not point out what to pursue teaches us at least what to avoid. Of all the countries, of

virtue and guilt into innocence. Men of bad principles frequently change their character, when placed in new situations where temptation is set at naught by industry, and honesty is more profitable than crime. The wants of nature being supplied, and the necessities of their condition removed, they become hardy soldiers in war and useful citizens in peace. The Republic broke the faith of treaties and the rights of hospitality; she defied the enmity of the injured Sabines and braved the resentment of their ravished daughters, to supply their want of women and to give to every man the hopes of marriage and of offspring. She well knew that the affections of the wife and the tender solicitude

which accounts have come down to us, he will find no state richer in great men or more fruitful of great events than ancient Rome; none in which poverty was so long honored and yoked with virtue; none in which the desires of men were more strictly bounded by their resources; none in which public virtue and private morals were so eminent and useful; and none into which avarice and luxury emigrated so late. Having weighed these things, and living in a time when men speak lightly of what cost so much blood and treasure; fear ful that a government which has so long been the theme of praise, will at last be the victim of obloquy, and that the labor of a century will be lost in a day; with a mind full of joy at the past, and of fear and forebodings of the mother, would outlive the pride of the father and for the future, he will be frequently led to contemplate for his own instruction and to unfold for the benefit of others, THE POLICY OF THE ROMAN REPUBLIC.

the resentment of the virgin. She well knew that kindness often springs from injuries, and that love is a speedy remedy for a woman's distress.

It has always been a custom with those who have a As the elements of national character are as varied high opinion of themselves, or, who wish to exact and as susceptible of impressions as those of individuals, respect and deference from others, to lay great stress the events of its early history and the actions of persons upon the antiquity and fame of their ancestors. Most in credit and authority must have great influence upon people are prone to believe that the virtues of the father the destinies of a country. So deeply rooted is the fall upon his children; and bestow praises upon men principle of imitation in our nature and so ceaseless is for actions which they have never performed. This our reverence for those who have gone before us, that the pride and this advantage of descent belong to nations as habits and opinions of the people are almost moulded well as individuals. The Republic boasted of her ori- after those of their fathers and especially the first foungin from the Gods, and claimed Mars as the founder of ders of the state. Thus, if I mistake not, the hardihood her city. According to her historians, the cruelty of of the Spartans was owing to the example not less than Amulius was evaded, and the channel of the Tiber to the laws of their first legislator. And the fond love changed by the care of the Protecting Deity; and the of liberty which has ever been the birthright and the children thus doomed to death, were rescued from ruin boast of Englishmen, may be traced to the bold spirit and reared by the Immortal Gods to be the founders of of their Saxon ancestors. It was the good fortune of Rome and the first of the conquerors of the earth. Rome that her first king was a model in war and her She thus imposed upon nations by an innocent artifice, second a model in peace, and that in the first dawn of and induced them to bear with more equal mind the the Republic men were so hurried on by the fire of their yoke which they were sometimes ready to throw off. feelings as to overlook domestic ties and private interest Her own citizens were fired with an ambition to sup- in the overthrow of authority, and that their illustrious port their descent by their deeds, and each age burned example had great influence not only upon the conduct to surpass the preceding in glory. Reverence for their of individuals but the character of the nation. Whatforefathers and love for their posterity-feelings which ever it is that moulds the morals of a people, the manabove all others hold a sway over the human mind-ners of one period follow those of the age which worked in full force. To rouse a Roman soldier to precedes it; and nothing but a revolution either gradual deeds of chivalry and arms, no other appeal was neces- or instantaneous can put things into a new track. Coursary than that of Galgacus to the Caledonian army-age being a precarious quality, because exercised by few Think of your fathers, think of your children. Hence pub- and at distant intervals, was propped in the infant Relic wealth stood in contrast to private poverty, and mili-public by public opinion; and the soldier had his own tary success kept pace with personal bravery. Hence stock of bravery increased by the conduct of his rival the heat of the combat was fanned by the delights of victory, and their actions were noble as their spirit was elevated. It was thus that enemies chose to be friends, and rivals preferred to be defendants. It was thus that the Republic was rescued so often in times of peril and alarm. It was thus that she gathered courage from despair, and rose more terrible from every defeat.

The Republic, in the meantime, grew by fortifyng the places that were fitted for building, more however, in hopes of future numbers than for the accommodation of present inhabitants. That her greatness might not be ideal, and that its importance might not dwindle for the want of numbers, an asylum was opened where crowds of the neighboring people fled in search of novelty and wealth. Buried in the bosom of hostile tribes, who beheld with envy her rising fortunes, it was her policy to hold out every inducement to emigration, and to welcome all classes, with the hope of converting vice into

in the ranks, and by the expected praises and perhaps dreaded scorn of his fellow citizens. The dangers of the combat were lost sight of in the thirst for a triumph; and from a hope of the noblest rewards and a fear of the most degrading punishments, the legions of the Republic became the dread of their enemies and the staff of the state.

No Republic can rise to wealth and dominion that does not hold out sufficient encouragement to virtue. Where riches are more praised than fame, and persons inherit offices which they cannot fill, and honors which they do not deserve, the minds of men are held under an unnatural restraint. In the Roman Republic there was no post, however high, that virtue and talents might not reach. Before the eyes of the commander glared the opima spolia and the triumph, and even upon the common soldier rewards were showered equal to the valor which he had shown. The consuls chosen

destroy her liberties. Frail indeed are the foundations of that government, which encourages a citizen to do good only to enable him to do evil. Short must be the life of that nation, which allows favor to be a privilege for mischief, and acknowledged services an apology for treason. The best of men are too apt to be made drunk with power, and giddy with popularity. The spirit of usurpation is too apt to get the mastery of any mind, that is restrained by no fear but that of self-reproach. So prone are we to mistake interest for duty, and love of self for love of country, that no Republic can be safe which does not, like the Roman, liberally reward the virtues and severely punish the vices of her most

yearly, never grew lazy, but each one bringing to the helm of affairs newness of mind and freshness of ambition, burned to distinguish his consulate by some memorable event, and fought with a spirit which was whetted and not worn out by domestic dissensions. Nothing is so hurtful to a commonwealth as unbroken peace and repose. Not that a state should forever be plunged in wars and bloodshed; but, as well might we expect the human body to be sound and healthful without exercise, or the rivulets of the meadow to be clear without a current, as to dream of permanence to an inert, sickly and feeble Republic, whose very lifeblood flows from turbulence and commotion. There must be something to rouse the minds and spur the spirit of men-powerful citizens. And this at least may safely be saidelse power is apt to rest where it is already lodged, and people are willing to confer upon descendants what they have already trusted to their ancestors.

that no nation ever lost its liberties by being too vigilant to preserve them. Well then did they humble the pride of Publicola, and hurl Manlius from the Tarpeian Rock. Well then did they drive Coriolanus into exile, and let him know that the power of a single class is not to be reared on the ruins of a whole city, and that the liber

the pride of the proudest man in Rome! Illud notandum videtur ut scian homines quæ et quanta decora, fœda cupiditas regni non ingrata solum sed etiam invisa reddideret.

Notwithstanding all this, the ingratitude of Republies has long been a theme of declamation with those who are fond of contrasting the patronage and liberality of princes, with the indifference, and perhaps insensities of a whole people are not to be sacrificed even to bility, of free governments. The people are so fickle, that even envy and suspicion often succeed to favor, and talents are forgotten as soon as they cease to be exerted. The ostracism of Athens, by which her wisest and noblest citizens were driven into exile, was a deep stain upon the constitution of that fierce democracy. Talents and worth were placed at the mercy of the mob, and there was no security for merit and no reward for sterling integrity. But in the Republic, virtue was honored in the living and revered in the dead. The loss of great men was frequently mourned by the whole senate and people, and their funeral expenses paid from the public treasury. She had never lost her liberty by the ambition of her citizens, and hence it was not a part of her policy to overwhelm with envy and suspicion, men who in peace were the ornaments, and in war the props, of the state. Founded then in truth and experience, is this observation upon government: that nations who have preserved, are not so rigid as those who have recovered, their liberties.

It is this greedy spirit of usurpation that, under a variety of forms but in purpose always the same, has been the perpetual scourge of nations. Sometimes, it displays itself under the form of anarchy, and in opposition to the principles of the social compact. Again, under the name of aristocracy, the happiness and liberties of the people are destroyed by the unfeeling passions of the great. A thirst for power seems to be born with us, and is a rich source of misery to the world and of uneasiness to ourselves. The delight of trespassing upon the rights of others, is a madness which few have the power to withstand. It was not long after the expulsion of the kings, before the senate began to oppress the people. So tight were the reins of authority drawn, that debtors justly complained, that while fighting for their country they were thrown into dungeons by their creditors, and that their liberties were more secure in war than in peace and among their enemies than their fellow citizens. But the senate soon found that its dignity was not respected unless supported by authority, and that the resistance of the people run into actual encroachment. Neither the prayers of the Conscript Fathers, the entreaties of the consuls, nor even the dan

The Republic soon reaped a rich reward from the virtue and talents of her citizens. On great occasions, when the state is most in danger, counsel is more useful than strength, and one man of greater service than numbers. The mass of men know not what to do. They have neither eyes to see, nor ears to hear. They are thrown upon a wide sea, without chart or compass;ger of foreign attack, could put a stop to the secessions, and whoever flies first to the helm, gains the guidance of the ship. It is then that worth rises to its level, and mind becomes lord of the ascendant. People shake off the misletoes, who have hitherto been free to flatter, but who are now unable to advise or defend them. The men who are at the top of the pack are shuffled down to the bottom, and for once in an age the game of life is played with a full deck and unmarked cards. On what page of Roman history is not carved an ennobling love of country? How often was the state saved by the conduct of one man and the wisdom of another? How often were the public wars entrusted to private care and waged by private arms!

But while the Republic was generous in rewarding true patriotism, she did not fail to punish dangerous ambition. She did not balance a man's deserts with his demerits, and because he had saved, allow him to

VOL. V.-104

tumults and angry factions of the people; until their wishes were gratified and their liberties secured. The tribunes were granted for their defence, and, what was a more important point, which they gained afterwards, were to be chosen by the comitia tributa. They procured admission to the consulship, and obtained the privilege of intermarrying with the patrician order. On the whole, whoever attentively considers the causes and the effects of these tumults and seditions, will find that they sprung from a love of liberty and ended in its triumph. They effected the balance of power between the senate and people, and prevented the few from oppressing the many. And if, as various writers assert, and indeed as the Holy Scriptures assure us, men are naturally wicked, and will seek every opportunity to show their depravity, laws only can make them good-for from good laws spring a good education, and from a good

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