# The one a sage disciple of the gown, The rich to fleece, the lingering to kill. These in a galley, with their sable train. Press'd to the shore that bounds the distant main; And next the bridegroom, but without a beard; Soon as the Priest had joined them hand in hand, Seiz'd with the scene, the solemn Priest lays down No text intrusive enters in the mind. And now the merry violin resounds, And now the DOCTOR, now the PARSON bounds. All gravity was lost; the solemn air, To damp the ardour of the dancing crew. The PARSON now, revolving from his place, His Nymph with eager eye displays her hand, To call his Reverence to his proper stand; But not for hands or nods he car'd at all, This way and that he whirls around the hall; One calls aloud, one stops his rapid flight, Both nymphs and youths contend to set him right; "This way! this way! you turn; lead out of sides, "That lady's hand you take! and next the bride's"; But while the merry violins resound, The ready Parson ceases not to bound. And now through right and left, across they go, And now the Priest, as in a solemn show, Stands in the midst and knows not what to do. As when some brisly boar the swains surround, To drive him through some gate, or sylvan ground, The PARSON thus, oft push'd, repulsive stood, The DOCTOR too no better fate obtain'd, Like some huge whale when dash'd against a rock, Then bursts of universal laughter rise, Shake the high dome, and fill the starry skies. The nymph assists her partner from the ground, Again the laughter and the jest resound. Scarce could the Chief, when rais'd amidst the throng, Like Polypheme-what Stoic would not laugh? Mr. Spierin will forgive my insertion of this poem. No person respects him more than I; and nothing but real esteem for a man, would induce me to make serious mention of him in this volume. That Traveller has little acquaintance with the policy of literature, and estimates but lightly the power of his page, who speaks indiscriminately of every individual with whom he has eaten a meal, or caroused over a bowl. I have been feasted and caressed by many of my friends, both at New-York, and Philadelphia, and Baltimore, and Washington; who, knowing that I contemplated to publish a narrative, did me the honour to desire a niche in my work. But of such characters what could I record? It surely could give the reader no satisfaction to be told, that, Mr. ——, having imported a turtle from Jamaica, guttled down for nearly three hours the callipash and callipee; or that the constant practice of Mr. was to smoke his pipe every day after dinner. The epitaph-maker will do all that can be done for such characters; for it can only be recorded of them that they were born, and that they died. During my visit at George-town, the melancholy tidings were brought of the death of General Washington. The inhabitants of the town were crouding to the ball-room, at the moment the courier arrived with the dispatch. But the death of so great a man converted their hilarity into sorrow; the eye of many a female, which, but a moment before had sparkled with pleasure, was now brimful of tears; and they all cast off their garments of gladness, and clothed themselves with sackcloth. The following Sunday, the men, women, and children, testified their veneration for the Father of their Country, by walking in procession to the church, where Mr. Spierin delivered a funeral oration. discourse more moving. Never was there a Tears flowed from every eye; and lamentations burst from every lip. Nor were the orators of America silent at the death of their hero. They called all their tropes and metaphors together; collected all the soldiers and statesmen of history, and made them cast their garlands at the feet of his statue. I look back both with pleasure and satisfaction on the time I passed with my friend, at the confluence of the rivers Waccamaw and Winyaw. Our conversation was commonly on the writers of the Augustan Age, and I corrected many errors I had imbibed by solitary study. The taste of Mr. George had been formed on the polished models of antiquity; to these he always recurred as to the standards of elegant composition. It is recorded, I believe, of Euler, that he could repeat the whole of the Æneid by heart; but the memory of Mr. George had not only digested the Eneid, but also the Georgics and Eclogues. But the moment was approaching that called me to another climate. I found a schooner lying at the wharfs of George-Town, that was bound to New-York, and thither I had formed the resolution of going. To this resolution I was particularly determined by the projects of Mr. George; who, disgusted with the society at George-town,-the eternal discourse of the inhabitants about their ! |