truth. They have long since sunk to forgetfulness, with the personal enmities, that generated them, and it is now well known, that sorrow and various misfortunes, brought on at forty years of age, the death of Agnolo Politiano, stiled by Cardinal Bembo, "Arbiter Ausoniæ lyræ."

The following ode was written by Politian, to accompany an edition of Horace by his friend Landino.

Ad Horatium Flaccura

Vates, Threicio blandior Orpheo,
Seu malis fidibus sistere lubricos
Amnes, seu tremulo ducere lice
Ipsis cum latebris feras;

Vates, Aeolia pectinis arbiter,
Qui princeps Latiam sollicitas chelyn,
Nec segnis titulos addere noxiis

Nigro carmine frontibus.

Quis te a barbarica compede vindicat?
Quis frontis nebulum dispulit, et situ
Deterso, levibus restituit choris

Curata juvenem cute?

O quam nuper eras nubilus, et malo
Obductus senio, quam nitidos ades
Nunc, vultus referens docta fragrantibus
Cinctus tempora floribus!

Talem purpureis reddere solibus Laetum pube nova post gelidas nives Serpentem, positis exuviis, solet

Verni temperies poli;

Talem te choreis reddidit, et lyrae Landinus, veterum laudibus æmulus, Qualis tu solitus Tibur ad uvidum

Blandam tendere barbiton.

Nunc te deliciis, nunc decet et levi Lascivire joco, nunc puerilibus Insertum thyasis, aut fide garrula. Inter ludere virgines.

TRANSLATION.

Oh thou, whose song with easier sway, Than Thracian Orpheus' potent lay, The listening rivers course could stay, Or charm the savage throng;

Poet, that first th' Aeolian lyre
Attuned with native Latian fire,
And aimed at vice with honest ire,
The bold satyrick song.

What kind deliverer set thee free,
Bade barbarous gloom and roughness
flee,

And gave thee back to mirth and glee
Of polished mein and gay?
How late did clouds thy face o'er spread
And age invest thy hoary head,
Now sweet with smiles, with roses red,
And garlands trim array.

As when fair spring, with flowrets pied,
Has waked the serpent's glossy pride,
He casts his spoils in wrath aside,

And flaunts his gorgeous train:
So Landin, skill'd in ancient lore,
Has deck'd thee as in days of yore,
When rung thy harp on Tibur's shore,
And o'er her mossy plain.

Now frolick sports, and wanton play,
Shall bid thee share the jocund day,
And hail thee still for virgins gay,
A sportive, amorous swain.

LEVITY.

The vulgar form their opinions of characters more from external appearances, than from any intrinsick qualities in the person. They mark all peculiarities, however incidental, in their superiours, and hence draw their conclusions; for they can penetrate no farther. When they witness the gravity of the judge on the bench, or the devotion of the preacher in the pulpit, they infer, that the first is always grave, and the last always devout. The inference is a very harmless one, and can injure neither party. It is not, however, of force to interdict those, who are in places of responsibility from the common, social pleasures of life; but only to forbid excess, and to point out the company, innocent trifling. before which they may indulge in Princes, magistrates, and ecclesiasticks, are entitled to their share in occasional levi

ties among their equals; but they would be ill employed in attempting to rival the buffoon in his jests, or the merry-andrew in his tricks : their competitors too would be sure to bear away the palm.

Though the great may sometimes descend from the pomp and formali. ties of station, they should use discretion in choosing the occasions. If the relaxations, in which they indulge, are trifling, they should also be private. Augustus, we are told, was ashamed to be seen at a favourite game; and Domitian was wise enough to retire into his closet to catch flies. The line of Horace, which has become trite from being often quoted;

"Dulce est desipere in loco;" contains a sentiment, that is safe in the hands of the wise, and allows a certain latitude,in giving up to a play. ful good humour, which he will not abuse. It is the medium between an intense and unyielding austerity, which excites hatred or disgust, and those excesses of folly, or indiscretion, which forbid respect from inferiours, that he will aim to attain. He will not always be "too proud for a wit;" but will have too little vanity to enter the lists with every prattling punster that annoys society. He will neither revel with the riotous, nor deny himself the enjoy ment of the social festival. His cheerfulness will be indulged without levity, and his pleasures without excess.

CLEMENCE D'ISAURE.

Little is known concerning this lady, or rather little can be discovered in the literary institution of this country she was the foundress of the Floral games, which were celebrated annually in the month of May. On this occasion an oration was publickly pronounced in her

honour; and her statue, which stood in the city hall was decorated with flowers. She left funds, from which were distributed, as prizes, to those who produced the best specimens in different kinds of poetry, a golden violet, a silver eglantine, and a gold, en

marygold. Florian has founded on this subject, a very pleasing metrical romance after the Spanish manner, which is inserted near the end of his Galatea. These games were instituted in the fourteenth century, and subsisted till recently in a flourishing state, as appears from passages in Marmontel's Memoirs of himself; who describes with a pleasing enthusiasm, naturally connected with the recollections of youthful scenes, his acquisition at one time of two of the prizes. Whether this institution was shaken in the general wreck of the French revolution, I know not. The conquerour, it must be confessed, has promoted the cause of letters, and probably may restore or en courage this ancient rite of the Muses. While in this country we are giving our thousands for purses at a horse race, our ten thousands for seminaries of systematick divinity, and our hundred thousands for enormous buildings, less remarkable for taste than extent, why is not some one munificent enough to found a similar festival? It would be a place where our youth might repair at that season, when every thing invites to sociability, harmony and love, and forget for a moment, the cares of pelf, "assem in longas diducere partes." Even self-interest might be moved at the thought of an annual panegyr ick, and a statue crowned with the first fruits of smiling spring.

Patriotism, pure and unsophisticated, since it proceeds from, or rather consists of the social sympathies, when extended to, and operating on the whole circle of political life, seldom does, perhaps it never did or can, produce a proud and contemptuous denial of honourable concessions to one nation, however sincere her friendship, while, at the same time, it promotes a tame and pusillanimous compliance with demands, though disgraceful to the last degree, from another nation, who though she pretends to something more than the simpering fondness of mere partiality, suffers no opportunity of insult or injury to pass unimproved. What he cannot justly retain, the patriot is ready, when required, to restore or surrender. What he cannot reasonably exact, the patriot feels himself under no inviolable obligation to demand. The honour of his country he indeed considers as sacred; and next to her honour, he thinks nothing so sacred as the prosperity of his country. His fortune, his character, his blood, his life; all he possesses; all he expects; the celebrity which his ambition toils to acquire; the happiness which his selflove hopes and pants to attain, enjoy and improve; that full and

swelling rapture, which arises from the prospect of enterprise resulting in success; that calm and soothing pleasure, which proceeds from the review of patient industry, gradually ripening to complete effect; these, and more than all these; every object of future possession, every object of present enjoyment, the patriot is prepared, and ready, and willing to risque and to lose, rather than see his country's honour, which ought always to ray out its beams in a full and dazzling glory round her head, tarnished, or the prosperity of his country wantonly impaired. Such is the nature of patriotism pure and unsophisticated; such is the character of a sincere and undissembling patriot ; "fortes vixere."

DR. DONNE.

Of Dr. Donne whose satires are full of wit, and breathe in a rough, though manly and forcible language, the high and indignant spirit of Juvenal, most scholars are miserably ignorant, and though some of his satires were polished and modulated by Pope, to an almost unrivalled degree of elegance and harmony; there are, I fear, few who can boast (and such knowledge is, indeed, no small matter of pride) that they have read all the satires of Dr. Donne. Such, however, though his works now lie neglected or forgotten, was once the celebrity of Donne, that Ben Johnson addressed and dedicated to him the following epigram, which as a specimen of encomiastick verses has perhaps never been excelled.

Donne, the delight of Phoebus, and each

CHAUCER.

THOUGH perhaps no passage is less happy to illustrate the just encomium of Pynson, who, in his Prohemye to Chaucer, characterises him, as distinguished by "high and quick sentences, eschewing prolixite, and casting away the chaf and superfluite, and shewing the pyked grayne of sentences uttered by crafty and sugred eloquence." Yet I must own, that, in my opinion, there is no stanza or verse of the father of English poetry, that seems to me to bear deeper or stronger impressions of a genius, which, though able to invent, was not too proud, whenever occasion required or admitted his learning to appear and display itself, rich as it was, and overflowing with an almost exhaustless

abundance, to borrow from antiquity, than Chaucer's description of Creseide. It is hardly equalled by any part of Shakespeare; Spenser has nothing, which, in comparison with it, does not dwindle to servile and paltry imitation. I would not wantonly scandalize any lover of Milton; but professing sincerely as I do, and really feeling as deep a reverence for that immortal poet, as it is possible for any man to feel and profess, I may be pardoned for asking, what lines in Paradise Lost, in Sampson Agonistes, in Paradise Regained, in Comus, in L'Allegro, in the Arcades, are in any one of the Il Penseroso, in the Lycidas, or in

essentials of

poetry superiour to the subjoined description of the beautiful, though faithless mistress of Troilus:

Creseide ywas this ladies name aright,

As to my dome, in al Troy 'is cite, Most fairest lady, passing every wight

So angel like shone her natife beaute, That like a thing immortal semid she, And therewith was she so parfite a creature,

As she had be made in scorning of na

IN the Anthology for December last, we announced the commencement of a course of Mineralogical Lectures, in this town, by Mr. Godon, and inserted the preliminary observations contained in his first Lecture, which gave a condensed view of his subject, and indicated the plan which he intended to pursue. His course, now completed, was comprised in about thirty Lectures, which were illustrated by experiments and by the exhibition of specimens from his valuable cabinet. Vol. V. No. IV. 2 B

ture.

Mr. Godon, in the discharge of his engagements, has, we are assured, given entire satisfaction to his hearers, which they expressed in a letter addressed to him, requesting a publication of his Lectures. "Such a volume," say they, "we should prize as a valuable mean of improvement as well as an agreeable memorial, and we are persuaded, that such a publication would be peculiarly seasonable and advantageous in our country, where this science has not been generally cultivated."

We now present Mr. Godon's reply to this application, and observe, with pleasure, that his denial is so far qualified, that we may indulge a hope of seeing those fruits of his labours in print, at some future period, augmented and enriched with the abundant illustrations, which his industrious observations, in this country, cannot fail to supply. The considerations, which he suggests, should induce us to approve his determination. Additions, of the description intended, must give a peculiar value to his work, and render it, whenever it may appear, a very useful and interesting acqui. sition to the publick. We are confident, that Mr. Godon will steadily pursue the investigations, which he contemplates, and that just and solid views in the sciences, to which he is attached, may be expected from a man of his intelligence, assiduity, and correct discrimination.

want the first notions in natural history; and with regard to those who have given some attention to mineralogy in particular, they may be easily contented without them, since I am always ready to communicate my collection to them, with all the explanations they can wish. Nevertheless, I do not altogether renounce the intention of making the publication which you request. I wait only to accumulate a greater fund of observations on America, and consequently to give to this book a degree of utility, which will render it more worthy of being presented to you. For the present I would suggest, that you may reap great benefit from the Elements of Messrs. Kirwan and Jameson; and to those who are acquainted with the French language from the Elementary Treatises of Hauy and Brochant.

It is not the same with natural science as with sciences of convention. These last are altogether the

MEN WHO ATTENDED HIS COURSE OF

LECTURES ON MINERALOGY.

GENTLEMEN,

THE invitation, which I have received from you, to publish the manuscript of my lectures, is extremely flattering to me; but such a publication would be nothing less than an elementary book on mineralogy, and a work of this description, on account of the influence which it may have on education in general, requires mature reflection, and the quietness of a settled situation, which I do not as yet enjoy. On the other hand, it is probable, that those lectures, destitute of the interest, which arises from experiments, and from the view of natural objects, would make but a very slight impression on those, who

ible of being studied entirely in books; but the first are only well understood by those, who observe nature itself. The best way therefore, in my opinion, of rapidly promoting mineralogical knowledge in this country, would be the establishment of a publick collection in this city. In the mean time a mineralogical description of the soil, which surrounds this city, would be perhaps useful. In this view I am now occupied with putting in order the observations, which I have made in the environs of Boston, and I purpose to publish them, with a mineralogical map of this part of Massachusetts. If any circumstance should prevent me from publishing this work; I expect it will be prosecuted successfully by some of your number. 1 am happy, in this moment, to pub