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the dismal vale she had shown me, as there she was not only despised, but outraged and insulted. Suddenly a loud cry and the trampling of horses awoke me; and I found myself in the grove, where I had fallen asleep, and a large pack of hounds, and many horsemen were diverting themselves in a fox chase.”



COME forth, pavilioned cloud,
And let night's mantle o'er the earth be spread-

is in his shroud!
The widow's and the orphan's tears be shed-
Weep, children of the free! where'er ye dwell,
For Freedom's son has bid the world farewell !

Toll now the muffled bell,
Its death-cry well may speak a nation's wo-

Hearts echo to the knell;
It is the festival of grief-we go
With measured steps—while rolls the funeral drum,
As if a great calamity had come.

Fond memory turns to him
Who was a nation's foreign, cherished son-

Whose fame time cannot dim;
While age on age shall keep what he hath won.
Honour will rise in many a hymn of praise,
And myriads sing the deeds of other days.

Ours is no clamorous cry,
Or vulgar wo, the mockery of grief!

The brave and good must die.
He sunk to earth, as falls the Autumn's leaf;
But he had sown the seed of other years
For a rich harvest-Europe, dry thy tears !

A knell comes o'er the deep
The nations' lamentation for the dead,

Whose clay is wrapp'd in sleep!
We shall no more behold the form which bled
With sires, who fell upon their country's heights-
The ransom, to redeem a nation's rights.

Weep, freemen, in your

sadness! When despots strewed your mother earth with dead,

His young heart beat with gladness,
To seek for honour on the warrior's bed:
A name, or else a grave! He left the crowd
At Freedom's call, for glory or a shroud !

France ! thou hast cause for wo—
Thy brave will weep—thy good cannot forget;

His like ye ne'er shall know.
The chief among thy chief-thy sun hath set;
But there is resurrection-even his bones
Shall shake all Europe's kings and mouldering thrones !

Weep when thy thought returns
To the dark era of thy bloody hour;

And if thy bosom burns
That cannibals did riot in thy power,
Think of thy chief, betrayed by heartless men-
Weep for thy chief, in Olmutz' midnight den!

Smile, that his soul was true, Unquailing, and unquenched before his foes

The foes of Freedom, too ! 'Twas well—that hour a radiance round him throws, No sceptered monarch ever yet obtained A'martyr's wreath! and nobly was it gained.

The great may not be good
The truly good are great; thy honour'd just,

Pent in his solitude,
And chain'd to earth, was greater with his crust,
Crown'd with the fame his youth and valor won,
Than Charlemagne upon the Roman's throne.

He was the chosen friend
Of him who foremost stood upon the earth,

A new world to defend
Whose spirit gave confederate nations birth:
His name is written on each heart—his grave
Looks out obscurely on Potomac's wave.

Sarmatia, where's thy power?
Now fallen is the mighty-he who stood

Thy champion, in the hour
When the fierce tiger revell’d in thy blood.
The Autocrat denied thy children graves-
Where are thy chosen? in Siberia's caves !

Pulaski fell in fight-
De Kalb, in leading freemen to the shock!

Sublime, yet fearful sight,
When nations meet, as ocean strikes the rock!
The spangled banner waved above the brave;
It was the death ye sought-a freeman's grave!

Sleep on, and take your rest Oblivion cannot wrap your deeds in night,

Upon our hearts imprest! Time's rolling years shall hallow them in light. Farewell! for ever-Kosciusko sleeps: The last is fallen now, for whom an empire weeps !



As a true Philadelphian, strongly attached to my native city, and jealous of her reputation, I have often felt mortified on hearing remarks made in disparagement of her hospitality and friendliness towards strangers. be so, that the inhabitants of this metropolis are really wanting in attention to a virtue so amiable as hospitality, it is time that a reformation should take place; and every one who has the spirit of brotherly love in his breast, or who desires to promote improvement in all that is “ lovely and of good report,” should make it his endeavour to contribute to the attainment of a better character in this respect.

It does not become us, when we are censured for coldness towards strangers, to be affronted, and hasty in denying the charge; but rather to enquire how far we are justly liable to blame, and by what means our manners may be amended. That the inhabitants of Philadelphia possess the qualities essential to friendship and genuine civility, has not been questioned by any who have frequented our city ; on the contrary, the substantial virtues of our citizens have been much eulogised. Strangers, however, have complained of a certain reserve of manner and formality in our conduct to them, at least upon first acquaintance; and it has been frequently said that our sister cities are not liable to this imputation. At

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