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office, induces him to preserve in existence by his influence even the shadow of a college. He is assisted by only one tutor; the funds do not permit the employment ofmore. There is an excellent female academy, lately established by the Society of United Brethren (Moravians) at Salem. There are very good academies in Raleigh, Newbern, Fayetteville, Lewisburg, Warrenton,and two or three others. -A publick library has been foun

ded in Newbern by a donation of $500 from Thomas Tomlinson. It is divided into eighty shares of $20 each; all the shares are filled, and the books purchased. It is contemplated to extend the number of shares to 120.

I know of no other publick libraries in the state, except one in Iredell county, established by a society called the Centre Benevolent Society, which has subsisted nearly twenty years.

SILVA,

Purpureos metam flores, et flumine libam
Summa.

I FORESEE that in writing this Silva I must frequently recur to the loose papers on my table, or to what is as loosely floating in my memory; and I hope for pardon from every one, who has himself attempted to compose in the first month of summer. In looking over the "Anatomy of Melancholy," some time since, I found the following verses with the reference Politianus de Rustico.

Felix ille animi, divisque simillimus ipsis,
Quem non mordaci resplendens gloria fuco
Solicitat; non fastosi mala gaudia luxus;
Sed tacitos sinit ire dies et paupere cultu,
Exigit innocuæ tranquilla silentia vitæ.

These verses are beautiful, but such uniform days would not constitute a happy life. It is strange, that any one, who knows himself to be human, should suppose, that he ever could, even when in health of mind, so divest himself of hope, as to live content; that tomorrow should be as to day. Common, quiet, and domestick pleasures do indeed constitute the most valuable part of our happiness; but to him alone are they delightful, who retires, to be conversant among them,

No. 17.

from manly, and, if I may so speak,
progressive exertions. The fol-
lowing verses from Southey de-
scribe a kind of seclusion far less
pleasing in prospect, than that of
Politiano, but perhaps more con-
formable to human passions.

Of the world
Fatigued, and loathing at my fellow-men
I shall be seen no more. There is a path,
The eagle hath not marked it, the young wolf
Knows not its hidden windings. I have trod
That path and marked a melancholy cave,
Where one, whose jaundiced soul abhors itself,
May pamper him in complete wretchedness.
There sepulchred, the ghost of what he was,
Conrade shall dwell, and, in the languid hour,
When the jarred senses sink to a sick calm,
Shall mourn the waste of frenzy.

This passage is in the 4th Book of
Joan of Arc. In writing the 3d,
4th, and 5th lines of it, Southey
undoubtedly had in his memory
the 7th and 8th verses of the 28th
chapter of Job.

"There is a path, which no fowl knoweth, and which the vulture's eye hath not seen.

"The lion's whelps have not trodden it, nor the fierce lion passed by it."

THE necessity of the alternation of rest and labour to our happiness

is expressed not inelegantly in the conclusion of the two following passages:

"Why,you have considered this matter very deeply," said Dr. Lyster," but I must not have you give way to these serious reflections. Thought, after all, has a cruel spite against happiness. I would have you therefore keep as much as you conveniently can out of its company. Run about, and divert yourself; 'tis all you have for it. The true art of happiness, in this most whimsical world, seems to be nothing more than this let those who have leisure find employment, and those who have business find leisure." Cecilia.

"We should have known ourselves to have been in the neighbourhood of some place larger than usual [Cologne] from the sight of two or three carriages on the road, nearly the first we had seen in Germany. There is, besides, some shew of labour in the adjoining villages; but the sallow countenances and miserable air of the people prove, that it is a labour not beneficial to them. The houses are only the desolated homes of these villagers, for there is not one of them that can be

supposed to belong to any prosperous inhabitant of the neighbouring city, or to afford that coveted stillness, in which the active find an occasional reward, and the idle perpetual misery." Mrs. Ratcliffe's Journey through Germany.

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us....all, which would first present itself to the view of a stranger, is little and low and mean. "Nos hic in republica infirma, misera, commutabilique versamur." It is the temper of democracy to crush every thing elegant, and to batter down every thing noble. In all countries where it prevails, there is an ostracism, whether visible or not, at constant war with talents and learning and virtue, with all qualities which may excite envy or claim superiority. In its worst state, it is the dominion of brute force and idiot violence. For my part, I have no wish to take any share in such a miserable sovereignty. I am willing to submit to those, on whom nature and education have conferred the right to rule.

HUMAN NATURE.

Alas, poor human nature! is the most composing exclamation in the world. It diffuses among the species those feelings, which, if an individual, concentrated on would be anger or disgust, but which thus become little more than pity. When we meet with any thing harsh or unpleasant, it removes our consideration from

the offence to the cause which produced it, and whether this be pride, or vanity, or ignorance, or ill-nature, we shall remember, that there are many men proud, and vain, and ignorant and ill-natured, and that it is hardly worth while to be exceedingly angry with one of these, because chance has un¬

fortunately cast him in our way.

LUCRETIUS.

THE beginning of the 4th book of Lucretius contains the common boast of poets that they are writing of "things unattempted yet,"

and his celebrated simile, by which

BASIUM 1.

he gives his reason for treating Cum Venus Afcanium fuper alta Cythera tulisset philosophical, subjects in verse. The following is a translation, which was sometime since made of this passage.

LUCRETIUS, b. iv. c. 1.

Now through the Mufes' pathlefs plains I ftray,
Where no preceding footsteps mark the way;
I drink delighted fprings to me revealed,
I pluck delighted flowers before concealed;
Well pleased to weave a not ignoble crown,
And veil my brows with honours yet unknown.
For of high themes I fing, and would unbind
Religion's fetters from the trembling mind;
Obfcurer fubjects treat in lucid verse,
And all around poetick charms difperfe
With wife defign; for as phyficians use,
When they harth wormwood in a cup infufe
For fome fick child who loaths the medicine much,
With yellow honey all the brim to touch,
And thus the unthinking boy allured to tafte,
Drains down the bitter juice with careless hatte,
By this kind art not cheated, though deceived,
And thus from weakness and from pain relieved.
So I, because to moft my subject seems
But harsh, and all the vulgar dread my themes,
To woo the tafte, Pierian sweets difperfe,
And grace my reasonings with the charms of verfe.

The 9th and 10th lines are not, I believe, a correct translation, but I have not the original, and cannot determine. The sense I think is preserved, but not the expression. The 7th and 8th lines of the translation appear so harsh, that I will observe, that there are not many men, I suppose, who have learning enough to read and taste enough to be pleased with the poetry of Lucretius, who are not disgusted with his philosophy.

SECUNDUS.

THE following are the original and a translation of the First Basium of Secundus, which treats of the origin of kisses. The classical reader will immediately recollect, that it is founded on the relation in the first book of the Eneid, of Venus removing her grandson Ascanius from the court of Dido. "At Venus Ascanio," &c. l. 694.

Sopitum teneris impofuit violis;
Albarum nimbos circumfudit rofarum,
Et totum liquido fparfit odore locum.
Mox veteres animo revocavit Adonidis igneis,
Notus et irrepfit ima per offa calor.

O quoties voluit circundare colla nepotis ?
O, quoties dixit? Talis Adonis erat.
Sed placidum pueri metuens turbare quietem,
Fixit vicinis Bafia mille rofas.

Ecce calent illæ ; cupidæ per ora Diones
Aura, fufuranti flamine, lenta fubit.
Quotquot rofas tetigit, tot Bafia nata repente
Gaudia reddebant multiplicata Dex.
At Cytherea natans per nubila Cygnis,
Ingentis terræ coepit obire globum ;
Triptolemiq: modo foecundis ofcula glebis
Sparfit, et ignotos ter dedit ore fonos.
Inde feges felix nata eft mortalibus ægris
Inde medela meis unica nata malis.
Salvete æternum! miferæ moderamina flammæ,
Humida de gelidis Bafia nata rofis.

En ego fum, veftri quo vate canentur honores,
Nota Medufæi dum juga montis erunt.
Et memor Æneadum, ftirpifque difertus amatas
Mollia Romulidum verba loquitur amor.

TRANSLATION.

When Venus bore with fond delight
Afcanius to Cythera's height,
On violets rifing to be preft
She laid the blooming boy to reft;
Clouds of white rofes o'er him spread,
And liquid fragrance round him thed.
Then as the gazed, a well known flame
With gentle tremors thrilled her frame,
The boy had all Adonis' charms,
How oft the longed to clafp her arms
Around his neck; how oft the said,
Adonis once fuch charms difplayed.
But fearful to difturb his reft,

She on each rofe a kifs impreft.
A foft air wantons o'er her cheek.
Each rofe the touched, a new-born kiss
Glowed on her lips with novel blifs.
Now floating where the thin clouds fpread,
Dione's car her white fwans led,
O'er the wide earth the flowly paft,
And on its fertile bofom caft

And lo! they warm; with murmurs weak

Full many a kifs; her warm lips move,

Thrice uttering unknown founds of love.

And hence a fruitful harvest rofe

For weary man oppreft with woes.
Ye only med'cines of my grief,
That fometimes give a fhort relief,
Moift kiffes from cold rofes fprung,
Your poet's verfe fhall long be fung;

Long as the Mufes' mount remains,

Or love well learned in Latian firains, And pleafed the Ænean race to own, Speaks the foft words to Romans known.

SANS SOUCI.

Stealing and giving sweets.

IN the year 1784 Dr. Hunter first appeared before the world, in the character of an author, by the publication of two vol umes of his Sacred Biography. The plan of this work he had conceived, we are told, when young; and so favourable was the reception it experienced, as to encour age him to extend it to seven volumes. Previous, however, to the publication of the latter part of this work, accident introduced him to an acquaintance with a French edition of Lavater's Physiognomy. Whatever opinions Dr. Hunter embraced, he embraced warmly.' He was struck with the novelty and originality of thought displayed in the essays of that writer; he became an enthusiast in the cause; and determined to translate them into English. The same ardent spirit which had induced Dr. H. to adopt this scheme, prompted him to make a journey to Zurich, for the sake of a personal interview with Lavater. In August 1787 he accordingly repaired thither. It might have been reasonably expected,that a proceeding so roman tick would have been considered by Lavater as no common compliment to him. But he did not receive Dr. Hunter with that frankness or generosity, to which so distinguished a mark of respect seemed fairly to entitle him. Lavater was jealous of Dr. H.'s undertaking, and thought the English translation likely to injure the sale of the French edition, in which he was interested. By degrees, however, his scruples were overcome, and he finally opened himself to the Doctor without reserve. In a letter, written by the

SHAKESP.

latter gentleman from Bern, a portrait of Lavater is drawn, and a descripttion of their last interview is given. This we consider as a curious literary morsel, and we shall make no apology for transcribing it into the Anthology.

"I was detained the whole morning by that strange, wild, ec. centrick,Lavater, in various conversations. When once he is set agoing, there is no such thing as stopping him, till he run himself out of breath. He starts from subject to subject, flies from book to book, from picture to picture; measures your nose, your eye, your mouth, with a pair of com passes; pours forth a torrent of physiognomy upon you; drags you, for a proof of his dogma, to a dozen of closets, and unfolds ten thousand drawings; but will not let you open your lips to propose a difficulty: crams a solution down your throat, before you have uttered half a syllable of your objection. He is meagre as the picture of famine; his nose and chin almost meet. I read him in my turn,and found little difficulty in discovering, amidst great genius, unaffected piety, unbounded benevolence, and moderate learning; much caprice and unsteadiness; a mind at once aspiring by nature, and grovelling through necessity; an endless turn to speculation and project in a word, a clever, flighty, good-natured necessitous man. He did not conceal his dread of my English translation, as he thinks is will materially affect the sale of the third and fourth volumes of his French edition, one of which is actually published, and the other in the press."

SMITH'S POEM

POETRY.

ΤΟ THE MEMORY OF MR. JOHN

PHILIPS.

In 1709, a year after the exhibition of Phædra, died John Philips, the friend

So thy grave lines extort a jufter smile,
Reach Butler's fancy, but surpass his style;
He speaks Scarron's low phrafe in humble strains,
In thee the folemn air of great Cervantes reigns.

What founding lines his abject themes express!
What shining words the pompous Shilling dress!
There, there my cell, immortal made, outvies
The frailer piles which o'er its ruins rise.
In her beft light the comick muse appears,

and fellow-collegian of Smith, who, When the, with borrow'd pride, the buskin wears.

on that occafion, wrote a poem, which justice must place among the best elegies which our language can shew, an elegant mixture of fondness and admiration, of dignity and softness. There are some paffages too ludicrous; but every human performance has its faults. JOHNSON.

SINCE our Ifis filently deplores

The bard who spread her fame to diftant shores ;
Since nobler pens their mournful lays fufpend,
My honeft zeal, if not my verfe, commend,
Forgive the poet, and approve the friend.
Your care had long his fleeting life reftrain 'd,
One table fed you, and one bed contain'd;
For his dear fake long reftless nights you bore,
While rattling coughs his heaving vessels tore,
Much was his pain, but your affliction more.
Oh! had no fummons from the noisy gown
Call'd thee, unwilling, to the nauseous town,
Thy love had o'er the dull disease prevail'd,
Thy mirth had cur'd where baffled phyfick fail'd;
But fince the will of heaven his fate decreed,
To thy kind care my worthless lines fucceed;
Fruitless our hopes, though pious our effays,
Yours to preferve a friend, and mine to praise.

Oh ! might I paint him in Miltonian verfe,
With ftrains Ilike those he fung on Glo'fter's herfe;
But with the meaner tribe I'm forc'd to chime,
And, wanting ftrength to rife, defcend to rhyme.

With other fire his glorious Blenheim fhines, And all the battle thunders in his lines; His nervous verfe great Boileau's ftrength tranf cends,

And France to Philips, as to Churchill, bends.

Oh I various bard, you all our powers control, You now difturb, and now divert the foul: Milton and Butler in thy mufe combine, Above the last thy manly beauties shine; For as I've seen, when rival wits contend, One gayly charge, one gravely wife defend; This on quick turns and points in vain relies, This with a look demure, and fteady eyes, With dry rebukes, or fneering praife, replies. Vol. III. No. 7. 2X

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Bleft clime, which Vaga's fruitful ftreams improve,

Etruria's envy, and her Cofmo's love;
Redftreak he quaffs beneath the Chiant vine,
Gives Tufcan yearly for thy Scudmore's wine,
And ev❜n his Taffo would exchange for thine.
Rife, rife, Rofcommon, fee the Blenheim mufe
The dull constraint of monkish rhyme refufe;
See, o'er the Alps his towering pinions foar,
Where never English poet reach'd before :
See mighty Cofmo's counsellor and friend,
By turns on Cofmo and the bard attend;
Rich in the coins and butts of ancient Rome,
In him he brings a nobler treasure home;
In them he views her gods, and domes defign'd,
In him the foul of Rome, and Virgil's mighty
mind:

To him for cafe retires from toils of ftate,
Not half fo proud to govern, as tranflate.

Our Spenfer, firft by Pifan poets taught, To us their tales, their ftyle, and numbers brought. To follow ours, now Tufcan bards defcend, From Philips borrow, though to Spenfer lend, Like Philips too the yoke of rhyme difdain; They firft on English bards impos'd the chain, First by an English bard from rhyme their freedom gain.

Tyrannick rhyme that cramps to equa! chime The gay, the fuft, the forid, and sublime,

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