My ready muse is pleas'd to squint her Who wraps in paper of each week Το greet each good and letter'd man A journal form'd on generous plan : With "Preacher," "Hermit," " Spondee," "Co lon;" * Mr. Carlisle printed the newspaper (in Walpole, in New Hampshire, New England) in which this production was first published. It was reprinted in pamphlets, and had an extensive circulation throughout the United States. Mr. Carlisle's newspaper was, at that time, edited by JOSEPH DENNIE, Esq. Mr. Dennie now conducts, at Philadelphia, a literary paper, called the "Port Folio," which has obtained great and deserved celebrity throughout the United States. Mr. DENNIE, in this and some other poetical productions, was the author's Mentor :— "Thou knowest, when Indolence possess'd me all, "How oft I rous'd, at thy inspiring call, "Burst from the siren's fascinating power, "And gave the muse thou lov'st one studious hour." GIFFORD. The author, in this, and a number of the following With pointed, pretty, pithy "Peter," Whom ladies style the charming creature, My mind with rapture swells, when e'er I And bids instructed taste to scorn But swift to Elysian fields elope, To "Common Sense," and sober "Moralist," To them, with sage Apollo's leave, I lines, "pours the tributary lay," in due homage to the essayists and poets, who condescended to make the Walpole newspaper the vehicle for their useful and entertaining productions. Now, courteous reader, since awhile To sing in Della Cruscan style, By frolick Fancy born along, WE'VE STEMM'D THE CATARACT OF SONG ;* 'Tis time, I think, with aching heart, For Muse, and you, and I, to part; ' * A sneer at Della Crusca's "Cataract of Light.” † In this expectation, however, the author, and perhaps some of his readers, were disappointed. Sickness rendered it impossible for him, at the commencement of the year, 1799, to wait on his Parnassian acquaintance. G 2 SONG. WRITTEN FOR THE OCCASION, AND SUNG IN NEW YORK, JULY THE FOURTH, 1805. The reader will perceive that it is a professed parody on the beautiful sailor's song of "Lash'd to the Helm." WHEN cannons roar, when bullets fly, I'll think, my Mary, on thy charms; Fresh proof shall yield Of thy fond soldier's love; And thy dear form In battle's storm His guardian angel prove. Should dangers thicken all around, And dying warriours strew the ground, In varied shapes, though death appear, Thy fancied form my soul shall cheer; The crimson field Fresh proof shall yield Of thy fond soldier's love; In battle's storm His guardian angel prove. And when loud cannons cease to roar, And when the din of battle's o'er, When safe return'd from war's alarms, O then I'll feast on Mary's charms! In ecstacy I'll fly to thee My ardent passion prove, Left glory's field, My life I'll yield To all the joys of love. |