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“ ders, has a mind to comprehend the language, “ and catch the spirit of a liberal Roman. There

is, perhaps, no Ode of Horace more difficult “ to render into English than the Ode to Pyrrba ; “and many are the versions that have been at

tempted without success, by writers distin“ guished for their classical attainments, and “ liveliness of imagination. We, therefore, re“joice to find the task performed with felicity

on a soil where genius sickens, and wbere fancy dies!

HORACE, Book i. Ode 5, Imitated,
Quis multa gracilis te puer in rosa, &c.

WHAT essenc'd youth, on bed of blushing roses,

Dissolves away within thy glowing arms?
Or with soft languor on thy breast reposes,

Deeply enamor'd of thy witching charms?
For whom do now, with wantonness and care,

Thy golden locks in graceful ringlets wave ?
What swain now listens to thy vows of air ?

For whom doth now thy fragrant bosom heave?
Alas ! how often shall he curse the hour,

Who, all-confiding in thy winning wiles,
With sudden darkness views the heavens low'r,

And finds, too late, the treach'ry of thy smiles
Wretched are they, who, by thy beauty won,

Believe thee not less amiable than kind :
No more deluded, I thy charms disown,

And give thy vows, indignant, to the wind,

“ We would recommend this writer if he should “chuse, or be compelled to remain at Cooso

hatchie, or any other American town of bar“ barous etymology, to turn either Usurer, Spe“ culator or Jew. His poetry, however happy, “ will in this country experience only the fate of - being buried among the rubbish of advertise. “ments for run-away negroes. Neither Horace, “nor his imitator, will be inquired after ; but “ What's the price of cotton ? and how a yoke " of bullocks ?”

My ardour of literary application, was increased by such spontaneous praise from a man, whose writings were held in the highest estimation, and who was considered, from prescriptive veneration, the American Arbiter Elegantiarum. I now cultivated the lighter Ode, and felicitated myself on having sacrificed to the laurelled-god in the woods of Carolina. The common names of common towns, of Boston, New-York, and Philadelphia, awaken no curiosity, because every Traveller has described them; but Coosohatchie, which has scarce ever reached the ear of an European, cannot but possess the recommendation of novelty from the Indian derivation of its name, and the wildness of its situation. I, therefore, rejoice at the destiny which brought me to the spot; and I envy not other Travellers the magnificence of their cities.

The country near Coosohatchie exhibited with the coming Spring a new and enchanting prospect. The borders of the forests were covered with the blossoms of the dog-wood, of which the white flowers caught the eye from every part ; and often was to be seen the red-bud tree, which purpled the adjacent woods with its luxuriant branches ; while, not infrequently, shrubs of jessamine, intermixed with the wood-bine, lined the road for several miles. The feathered choir began to warble their strains, and from

every tree was heard the song of the red-bird, of which the pauses were filled by the mocking-bird, who either imitated the note with exquisite precision, or poured forth a ravishing melody of its own.

I commonly devoted my Sundays to the pleasure of exploring the country, and cheered by a serene sky, and smiling landscape, felt my breast awakened to the most rapturous sensations. I lifted my heart to that Supreme Being, whose agency


where confessed ; and whom I traced in the verdure of the earth, the foliage of the trees, and the water of the stream. I have ever been of opinion, that God can be as well propitiated in a field as a temple ; that he is not to be conciliated hy empty protestations, but grateful feelings; and that the heart can be devout when the tongue is silent. Yet there is always something wanting to sublunary felicity, and I confess, I felt very sensibly the privation of those hills which so agreeably diversify the country of Europe. I would exclaim in the animated language of Rousseau, Jamais pays de plaine, quelque beau

'l fut, ne parut tel à mes yeux.

Il me faut des torrens, des rochers, des sapins, des bois noirs,

des chemins raboteux a monter & a descendre, des précipices à mes cotés qui me fassent bien peur !"*

In my walk to Coosobatchie I passed here and there a plantation, but to have called on its owner without a previous introduction, would have been a breach of that etiquette which has its source from the depravity of great cities, but has not failed to find its way into the woods of America. When I first beheld a fine lady drawn by four horses through the woods of Carolina in her coach, and a train of servants following the vehicle, clad in a magnificent livery, I looked up with sorrow at that luxury and refinement, which are hastening with rapid strides to change the pure and sylvan scenes of nature into a theatre of pride and ostentation. When Venus enchanted Æneas with her presence in the woods, she was not attired in the dress of the ladies of Queen Dido's court; but, huntress like, had hung from her shoulders a bow, and was otherwise equipped for the toils of the chase.

On coming to Coosobatchie, I repaired to the post-office, which never failed to give me an epistle from my beloved and literary friend Mr. George; who enlightened me with his knowledge, enlivened me with his wit, and consoled me with his reflections. I shall not expatiate on our genuine, disinterested friendship. He has consecrated to it à monument in his Poein of the Wanderer. What but the heart could have dictated the following passage ?

* Confessions.

Tom. 2.

Here doom'd to pant beneath a torrid sky,
“ And cast to happier climes a wishful eye;
“ No friend had I my sorrows to deplore,
“ With whom to pass the sympathetic hour !
“ For many a stream, and many a waste divide,
“ These lonely shores from Coosohatchie's tide !"

I remember, with lively pleasure, my residence in the woods of South Carolina. Enjoying health in its plenitude, yet young enough to receive new impressions ; cultivating daily my taste by the study of polite literature ; blest with the friendship of a George, and living in the bosom of a family unruffled by domestic cares; how could I be otherwise than happy, and how can I refrain from the pleasure of retrospection.

Coosohatchie ! thou shalt not be unknown, if, by what eloquence nature has given me, I can call forth corresponding emotions in the breast of my reader to those which my own felt when wandering silently through thy woods. com

My pupils, in the woods of Coosobatchie, consisted of a boy and two young ladies. William Henry was an interesting lad of fourteen, ingenuous of disposition, and a stranger to fear. He was fond to excess of the chase. His heart danced with joy at the mention of a deer; and he blew his horn, called together his dogs, and hooped

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