"The Ages" contains upwards of three hundred lines. We cannot say that they are absolutely perfect, but we may say, without fear of contradiction, that this poem alone is sufficient to answer all the sneers of foreign critics.

66

"The Ages" being the longest of Bryant's poems, is, perhaps, the most creditable to his genius; as continued effort is the true test of power. However, there are several of his shorter pieces which are more generally known, and are even more esteemed than this. We must look to Homer or Milton for more sublimity than is in "Thanatopsis." What can be more beautiful than "The Groves were God's first Temples?" The "Hymn to the North Star" is only equalled, if indeed it can be equalled, by the anonymous Hymn to the Stars." The " Song of the Stars" is at once sublime and pleasing, in spite of the improper measure in which the thoughts are expressed. The "Song of Pitcairn's Island," is tenderness itself. It would be hard, indeed, to say which, among many of the poems in this volume, deserves the preference. If to those we have particularly noticed, we add "The Old Man's Funeral," "To the Evening Wind," "Autumn Woods," and the "Death of the Flowers," we shall have pointed out most of the preeminently good.

Bryant has given us several translations in this volume, most of them from the Castilian. We object to this occupation of his time, though the poems be good in themselves. It is almost as hard to translate well, as to write well, and we cannot but think that powers like Bryant's would be better employed in original composition, than in transferring foreign plants to the soil of his own country. By saying that it is hard to translate, we do not mean that the work requires great genius, but that a good translation is not made without time and labor. Bryant should leave such drudgery to inferior hands, of which we have enough.

We have seldom seen gems of the first water more shabbily set than these before us. In plainer terms, the work is very badly printed, and not on the best of paper; and worst of all, the volume abounds in typographical blunders; often so enormous as to obscure the sense. For examples:

"The tall old maples, verdant still,
Yet tell, grandeur of decay,

How swift the years have passed away."

Yet oft thine own dear Indian maid Even there thy thoughts will earthward stray, To her who sits where thou wert laid, And weeps the hours away."

There are also bad lines which cannot be attributed to the printer's devil. The three following lines rhyme severally with pentameters :

"Look on this beautiful world, and read the truth."

"Will then the merciful One, who stamped our race."

"O Greece! thy flourishing cities were a spoil." Such trisyllables as radiant and glorious may be pronounced as dissyllables, and are, therefore, admissible as such in metre; but the organs of speech cannot make dissyllables, of merciful, beautiful, and flourishing.

"But 'neath yon crimson tree."

"And 'neath the hemlock whose thick branches bent."

A schoolboy should be scourged for introducing such a word as 'neath, into a theme. But that we see his stamp on the context, we could not suppose that lines indicating such poverty in language belonged to Bryant.

Some weak and even prosaic lines may be found in this volume.

"And glories of the stars and sun, And these and poetry are one." "The twinkling maize field rustled on the shore."

In what sense can maize be said to twinkle?

"Of men and their affairs, and to shed down Kind influences. Lo! their orbs burn more bright."

Is this last line, which occurs in heroic blank verse, iambic, trochaic or anapæstic?-or in what measure is it?

Humor is not Bryant's forte; witness "Spring in Town," and "Rhode-Island Coal," which are, in our apprehension, failures. There are two or three pieces in the book, which, if they be indeed Bryant's, are entirely unworthy of him. "The Song of Marion's Men," is one of these. The thoughts are mere common-place, the structure is inharmonious, and the language is tame.

These remarks merely serve to show that perfection is never to be expected. As a whole, the book is worthy of all praise. We need not wish Mr. Bryant a ready sale of his work, for that its intrinsic merit will command; but we wish him what good we can,-a more careful proof-reader for his second edition.

Truth, a Gift for Scribblers: Second Edition, with Additions and Emendations, by William J. Snelling.

The author of this work very boldly and fairly avowed his object in the preface to the first edition of his Poem, which appeared about the beginning of the year 1831: he was disgusted with

newspaper puffs of would-be poets: he wished they would write better or not write at all. The conductors of newspapers had been in the habit of flattering the young aspirants; and he really believed that the itch of rhyme had withdrawn more persons from the useful pursuits of life, than the doctrine of rotation in office; and he therefore considered it his bounden duty to sacrifice some of these young cocks of Bantam to Esculapius, in hopes of retrieving the sanity of the rest. Wherever he found ability at all above mediocrity, (so he declared) he acknowledged it, though obscured by a thousand blots: "Where talent does not exist, (he adds) the literary hopes of the writer ought to be blasted, even for his own welfare; and it will give me pleasure to perform the service."

The whole of the first edition being "out of print," the writer has made some additions and emendations, and sent out a second, in the preface to which we find the same fearless and independent strain of censure. "Nothing is farther from his intention, (he says) than to offer aught like apology for any part of the contents of his first edition. He has had abuse enough to satisfy a moderate appetite already, and he expects more. It is the privilege of the beaten to rail, and he is willing that those who find themselves aggrieved by him, should exercise it at his expense."

The additions to this second edition consist of a "Prologue" of nine pages, written in the form of a dialogue between the Author and a Friend, (in which he handles some of the poets of the day with as little mercy as he had shown for the same individuals in the original poem ;) of several passages incorporated with the text, and of a few notes. The emendations we have not been careful to note, and, perceiving no relaxation of severity in tone, (severer it could not well be) we apprehend they are neither numerous nor important.

We are not disposed to doubt the sincerity of Mr. Snelling's declaration, that he has no personal quarrel with the subjects of his criticism, and that he could not be prompted by hatred; indeed, we have other reasons than his assertion for believing that he had no personal acquaintance with many of them; but there are others whom it will be difficult to convince that they are thus coarsely treated, merely from a regard to "Truth." There are some men so sensitive, and at the same time so dull, that they cannot conceive what

other motive than malice or hatred can prompt a criticism on the productions of their intellect, that differs from their own notions upon the subject. The critic who denies the omnipotence of a young poet runs a "smart chance," (to borrow a phrase from our sister states in the West) of being set down as a fool or a villain.

It must be admitted that there is much of truth, in the Poem before us. We would not be understood as admitting the accuracy of all the writer's propositions, nor the legitimacy of all his criticisms; if we were so inclined, we think we could point out a few instances in which he has shown more wit than justice; but we cannot withhold our approbation from the purpose of the Poem, even if we be compelled to turn away from beholding the execution. There is sometimes a coarseness in the language that seems to be unmannerly, unnecessarily or carelessly indecorous, which is more offensive to good taste and to the subject on which the castigation is inflicted, than all the wounds it makes. The author will doubtless plead, by way of apology, that his dunces could not feel the polished instrument, and that he was obliged to select his weapons with reference to the degree of susceptibility in his subjects. But we fear he has followed too literally the example of the cruel barber, who threatened to lather his stubborn boy with aqua fortis, and shave him with a hand-saw.

We should have been better pleased with Mr. Snelling's Poem, if he had treated that class of writers whem he calls his cleric friends" with a little more kindness. It grieves us that he cannot see anything to commend in the "Airs of Palestine," but more that he should find no better epithet by which to designate the profession of its author than "prime parson," a low word, and now used universally as a term of reproach. The manner, in which other writers of the same profession are emphatically pointed out, is not less objectionable. The author of the "Vision of Liberty,"-admitting that that poem may be obnoxious to the critic's reproof, -is also the author of some pieces that might have atoned for many faults. We should rather be the author of his beautiful little poem "To the Ursa Major," than all that we have seen of the productions of him, who "finds favor" in Mr. Snelling's eyes on account of his "modesty," or of some whom he has placed upon Time's "world-broad shoulders," to be borne "down to fu

ture years." But it is true now, as in all by-gone time, that there is no disputing about taste.

It appears to us that the author of "Truth" does not make all his decisions upon uniform principles, and we see no reason why the court of criticism should not be guided by impartiality in the administration of justice as well as all other courts. Sprague is reprimanded in no very gentle terms for the "smell of oil," which marks "each and every distich;" but Halleck's carelessness and neglect of study are not only set down as "trifling faults," but are commended as beauties, for which the critic "loves him better." The smoothness of Sprague's versification, and his accuracy in counting his numbers, are "marks of toil," tainted plague-spots on his hide." The "faults in Halleck's glowing measure," are "spots that obscure the surface of the sun." The criticism on Sprague seems to be hardly consistent with itself. But let the reader judge. Here are the sentences passed upon him and Halleck.

As when a rocket climbs the vault of night, And briefly falters in its fiery flight, Yet starts again as it begins to fail, Upborne by bursting blasts beneath its tail, So over-rated Sprague is seen to rise, Puffed by the papers to the very skies. His is the sterling bullion, thrice refined, Right from the rich exchequer of his mind. Sense, strength, and classic purity combine With genius in his almost faultless line; Trained in the olden school, his tide of song Bears truth and judgement on its breast along. Bright, yet not dazzling, burns his steady flame; Great is his merit-greater still his fame.

Forbid it, Justice, this brave bard should lie On the same coals that cooked the smaller fry; Yet to the tainted plague-spots on his hide The friendly caustic needs must be applied. My heart sweats blood,that he, so prized by all, Should only string his harp at Mammon's call. "T is clear his bank accounts and studies clash; He counts his numbers as he counts his cash. Too plain his verses show the marks of toil, And each and every distich smells of oil. Stern truth declares that his is not the art To rouse the fancy or to touch the heart. Dead on the ear his accents often fall; Though just, yet harsh, and something dull withal.

The careless poet has inscribed a name
Not to be blotted from the book of fame;
A name that Yankees to be born shall view,
And boast that Halleck was a Yankee too.

Dear Halleck, withered be the hands that dare

One laurel from thy noble brow to tear:
Accept the tribute of a muse inclined
To bow to nothing, save the power of mind.

There were two or three poets, if we recollect aright, that figured conspicuously in the first edition of "Truth,' now among the missing in this second edition. Were they annihilated by the first lash, or does the author's bowels of compassion yearn over the suffering? Two or three new subjects are also introduced, one of them a "bilious critic" from the south, is not rebuked for his "scurril coarseness," but for "the sputtering spite that fills his pin'shead heart."

We dismiss this "Gift for Scribblers," with the expression of a sincere and benevolent wish that it may be the happy means of converting many young sinners from the error of their way. It the author could, by his good advice, save about two hundred young men from the martyrdom to which they aspire, and who are striving to snatch the crowns of Keats and Kirk White, he would deserve the fame of the greatest philanthropist of the age.

A Discourse delivered at the Annual Election, January 4, 1832, before the Government of the state of Massachusetts. By Paul Dean.

Mr. Dean holds, with the Apostle, that the powers that be, are ordained of God," without reference to their character; as the Almighty has placed in society a controlling power, to be employed for its own benefit, which is equally entitled to obedience, whether it be exercised by the whole people, or delegated by them to a select few, or to a single individual. The Almighty prescribes no form of government and designates no rulers, but nature and revelation prove that he wills human happiness, and experience attests that civil society conduces to that end. The people, thus connected, become the fountain of power, with the right to establish their own governments, but owing implicit reverence and respect, after they are established. Mr. Dean carries this doctrine of passive obedience to its greatest extent; and his sentiments are more worthy of the clerical, than becoming in a political preacher. He says, "the right of resistance to the powers that be, however oppressive, is one of expediency only,"

and its propriety must depend upon the capacity to effect the object without greater public inconvenience than is already felt or apprehended. It is generally held that the loss of liberty is the greatest inconvenience and injury that can possibly befall a community; and the oppressed, who should stop to calculate the chances of success, would meet with but little sympathy among society at large. To revolt from tyranny and oppression, is the most natural impulse of the mind; we think it cannot be true, therefore, as Mr. Dean asserts, that an attempt to better our condition without a certainty of succeeding, "would only increase the evil, and be rebellion against the will of Heaven.' However, we believe that in practice there would be no great difference between the views of the preacher and our own, for he admits that "every man for himself" is to judge of the expediency. We only ask that, in case the oppressive power prove the stronger, we be not subjected to temporal and eternal punishment.

The discourse is well adapted to the occasion for which it was prepared. Our own form of government is considered as "blessed of God" in its origin, and as peculiarly adapted to the character and habits of the people who framed it; and moreover as eminently entitled to the respect and adherence of their successors. The dangers to which it is exposed by the imperfections of our nature, the too intimate connexion of re

ligion with government, by ambitious men, the licentiousness of infidelity, the turbulence of parties, and the selfishness of individuals, are set forth in an anxious and a warning spirit. But the subjoined paragraph is by far the most spirited in the whole discourse,and with it we take leave of the subject.

The last and greatest of the evils which demand our consideration, is a desire for innovation so common to free and prosperous communities. Though in defective governments the work of reform may be very desirable, yet in' ours it seems, in a good degree to be one of supererogation. Wise men will judge whether in this age of "nullification," of "meetings and conventions," and of appeals to the "ballot boxes;" the most alarming sign of " the times," be not this very inordinate thirst for innovation? The genius of restlessness which has hitherto walked in darkness, now shows itself at noon day, and under the pretence of improvement threatens our fairest institutions. The militia, once the pride and boast of the nation, must now be abolished; the whole system of debt and credit by which the commerce of the world is carried on, annulled; the constitution itself subjected to essential alterations, so as to conform to the present state of society. Ancient doctrines must be rejected, and, like old leaven, purged away. Such has been the "development of intellect" that fractions have become "units" and parties divided into parties; persons of confirmed habits of idleness become champions of "working men," and rapacious aspirants clamorous for retrenchment. Let this thirst for improvement go on, let knowledge advance with such rapid strides for a generation more, and our most valued institutions would wither as before the noxious sirocco from the

burning desert. This "advance of philosophy," this "march of mind" continued, would soon conduct us to the brink of ruin. Does not this restless spirit merit the rebuke of public opinion?

FINE ARTS. Hayden's celebrated Picture of Christ's Entry into Jerusalem, was purchased in London, by Col. C. G. Childs, of Philadelphia. It will shortly be exhibited in the splendid room of the Adelphi, in that city. "This is unquestionably the finest Historical Picture which England has ever produced, and she might as certainly challenge all the world at present to produce any thing like it. The figure of Christ, as the principal, claims our first notice, and in this the painter has been eminently successful. The supernatural paleness of the face; the apparently self-impelled and gentle motion; the beautiful reserve of action and look; the countenance so evidently charged with care, but withal so evidently supported, these powerfully and irresistibly indicate the divinity of

the character, while the noble and modest elevation of expression describes the moment to be one of triumph, and that the shouts of "Hosannah to the Highest," are grateful to his ears; after the principal figure, St. John, the mother introducing her penitent daughter, and the figure called Lazarus, may all be instanced as master-pieces of art. The harmony of the picture, notwithstanding the glow and splendor of the coloring, is admirable and extraordinary, and as a whole it may be deemed without a parallel."

ARACACHA. The fifth number of the Southern Agriculturist contains a paper showing the result of an attempt to cultivate the Aracacha in this state. This plant, considered in Columbia as the most useful of all the edible roots, has hitherto been cultivated with entire

success only in South-America-with the exception of an attempt made in Baltimore, by Mr. Smith, the editor of the American Farmer. The experiment with this plant, on the part of the enterprising editor of the Agriculturist, progressed favorably for some months, but finally failed; owing, as he seems to think, to the vicissitudes of our Southern climate. From this single experiment, the editor does not feel warranted in giving an opinion as to whether the Aracacha may be climatised at the South; nor does he undertake to pronounce as to its value. He intends, however, to vary his experiments as much as possible, and hopes to ascertain in the course of the approaching season, what probability there is of the Aracacha ever becoming of value in the southern states. Should it become so climatised as to be cultivated in the open ground freely, he is of opinion that it cannot fail to be of immense value; and its present indications are that it will prove very productive.

CENTENNIAL ANNIVERSARY. The

twenty-second day of February, 1832, was the hundredth anniversary of the birth day of GEORGE WASHINGTON. It was observed as a day of thanksgiving, festivity, and recreation, in all sections of the Union. Our publication day comes too soon after the celebration, to admit of any details this month. The Orations and Poems, which the occasion has elicited, will furnish themes for future notice.

THE LOST RIVER, in the western part of Virginia, is perhaps, one of the greatest natural curiosities in the state. This river rises in the North mountain, in the county of Rockingham, and after flowing through a fertile but narrow valley in the county of Hardy, called the Lost River Valley, a distance of about twenty-five miles, is suddenly arrested in its progress, by a mountain called the Sandy Ridge, crossing its course in an oblique direction. Here this river, as if conscious of its want of physical force to tear asunder the huge mountain which would form a barrier to its progress, seems to have recourse to art; and on reaching the foot of the mountain, it forms a whirlpool, sinks, and finds a subterraneous passage through the mountain. From this place the stream takes the name of Lost River. After having passed through the mountain, a distance of about three miles, it again emerges from its subterraneous channel, and continues its course through the Cacapon valley, in the counties of Hardy, Hampshire and

Morgan, and flows into the Potomac. The river below its passage through Sandy Ridge, is called the Great Cacapon. About two miles below this place, and near the little village of Wardensville, there is a forge erected on the Great Cacapon. The reader may form some idea of the size of this stream, from the fact that it has been found sufficient for the transportation of boats of nine tons burden, from this forge to the Potomac. This great curiosity is about thirteen miles from the celebrated Cacapon Springs, in the county of Hampshire.

THE TAPIR OR THE ANTA, now ex

The

hibiting in the lower part of the Engine House next to the Virginia Bank, is really a most curious and singular animal. It is now about 16 months old, about 3 feet in height, and about 5 in length, without horns, but with a bristy mane, and a short naked tail. The legs are short and thick, and its feet have four small black hoofs, different from almost all other animals. arched, and the hair of a dusky or body is thick and clumsy, somewhat brownish color. The head is long with roundish erect ears and small eyes, and the muzzle terminates in a kind of proboscis, which can be extended or contracted at will, and which it uses to grasp its food and convey it to its mouth, like the Rhinoceros; and in this are also contained the organs of smell. He has ten incisive teeth, and ten grinders in each jaw, which distinguishes him from all other ruminating animals. His skin is so hard and thick that the Indians use it to make shields of. He swims and dives with such singular facility that he is supposed by many to be amphibious. His customs and habits are so like the Hippopotamus that he is supposed by some naturalists to be of the same species. His attitude is usually sitting like a dog, and his voice is a kind of whistle. He lives upon fruits and herbs, and his flesh is considered by the Indians as wholesome food. He is gentle and docile as a lamb.

MANUFACTURE OF IRON. By the Report of the committee upon fron and Steel, made to the New-York Convention, it appears that there is made per annum-Bar Iron, 112,866 tons; Pig Iron, the whole quantity made being computed as such, 191,536; Value, $13,329,760; Men employed, 29,254; Persons subsisted, 146,273; Annual wages, 8,776,420; Paid for food furnished by farmers, 4,000,000; Paid for transportation of Iron, 1,500,000.