FREDERIC S. COZZENS.

[Born, 1818.]

THE writer of the pleasant magazine papers under the signature of "RICHARD HAYWARDE" was born in New York in the year 1818. RICHARD HAYWARDE was the name of his father's maternal grandfather. He was born in Hampshire in England in 1693, and was one of the earlier Moravian missionaries to America. In 1740 he entertained

some of the Brethren, who had come from the old world, at his house in Newport. In a little pamphlet published in 1808, giving an account of the Moravian settlements in this country, he is referred to familiarly as "Old father HAYWARDE." LEONARD COZZENS, his great grandfather in another line, came from Wiltshire, in England, and settled in Newport in 1743. His grandfather, immediately after the battle of Lexington, joined the Newport volunteers, commanded by Captain SEARS, and fought at Bunker Hill. He was himself educated in the city of New York, and has always resided there. He has been a curious student of

American literature, and in the winter of 1544 livered a lecture upon this subject. His ver mainly of articles previously published in entitled "Prismatics," printed in 1853, cons "Knickerbocker Magazine," to which he has a frequent contributor for several years. Han ed originally in "The Knickerbocker” and “P recent work, the "Sparrowgrass Papers," app nam's Monthly." He is an importer and drug in wines, of which he has written some admit little periodical which he publishes himself, an essays, both in "Putnam's Monthly," and in i the title of "The Wine Press." In a certain frest and whimsical humor, and a refined and agree sentiment, expressed in prose or verse, Mr. Cozza always pleases. He is indeed, a delightful sp ist, in a domain quite his own, and his poetry has 23 easy flow, and a natural vein of wit and pat that can meet the eye of the desultory reader. which render his signature one of the most welcome

A BABYLONISH DITTY.
MORE than several years have faded
Since my heart was first invaded
By a brown-skinned, gray-eyed siren

On the merry old "South-side;"
Where the mill-flume cataracts glisten,
And the agile blue fish listen
To the fleet of phantom schooners,
Floating on the weedy tide.
There, amid the sandy reaches,
In among the pines and beeches,
Oaks, and various other kinds of

Old primeval forest trees,
Did we wander in the noon-light
Or beneath the silver moon-light,
While in ledges sighed the sedges,

To the salt salubrious breeze.

Oh, I loved her as a sister,
Often, oftentimes, I kissed her,
Holding prest against my vest

Her slender, soft, seductive hand;
Often by my midnight taper,
Filled at least a quire of paper
With some graphic ode or sapphic
"To the nymph of Baby Land."
Oft we saw the dim blue highlands,
Coney, Oak, and other islands,
(Motes that dot the dimpled bosom
Of the sunny summer sea,)
Or, mid polished leaves of lotus,
Wheresoe'er our skiff would float us,
Anywhere, where none could note us,
There we sought alone to be.

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Thus, till summer was senescent,
And the woods were iridescent,
Dolphin tints and hectic tints

Of what was shortly coming on,
Did I worship AMY MILTON;
Fragile was the faith I built on!-
Then we parted, broken hearted
I, when she left Babylon.
As upon the moveless water,
Lies the motionless frigata,-

Flings her spars and spidery outlines,
Lightly on the lucid plain,-
But whene'er the fresh breeze bloweth
To more distant oceans goeth,
Never more the old haunt knoweth,
Never more returns again,-
So is woman, evanescent,
Shifting with the shifting present,
Changing like the changing tide,
And faithless as the fickle sea;
Lighter than the wind-blown thistle,
Falser than the fowler's whistle,
Was that coaxing piece of hoaxing—
AMY MILTON's love for me.

Yes, thou transitory bubble!
Floating on this sea of trouble,
Though the sky be bright above thee,
Soon will sunny days be gone;
Then, when thou 'rt by all forsaken,
Will thy bankrupt heart awaken
To these golden days of olden
Times in happy Babylon!

ZZENS

1

GEORGE H. COLTON.

[Born, 1818. Died, 1847.]

GEORGE H. COLTON, the fifth of nine children fa Congregational clergyman who had emigrated o that place from Connecticut, was born in Westord, about twelve miles north of Cooperstown, mong the mountains of Otsego county, in New York, on the twenty-fifth of October, 1818. When bout three years of age he was removed with his ather's family to Royalton, near Lockport, where he remained three years, and then was carried to 1 new home in Elba, in the county of Essex. In this early period he attended indifferent district schools, but his chief means of education was the library of his father, in which he lingered, with an insatiable love of reading, so that before the close of his twelfth year he had made himself familiar with a large portion of English classical

literature.

He

In 1830 he was sent to New Haven to pursue his studies under an elder brother, the Rev. JOHN O. COLTON, then a tutor in Yale College, which he himself entered in 1836, and left, with the degree of bachelor of arts, and next the highest honors of his class, in the summer of 1840. Soon after opened a grammar school in Hartford, but found teaching a disagreeable occupation, and gave it up. He had indeed determined already to devote himself entirely to literature. While an undergraduate he had been a frequent contributor to the college magazine, and in his senior year had written the first canto of a long poem entitled "Tecumseh, or the West Thirty Years Since." This work he now resumed, and completed, with great rapidity, that it might possess on its publication all the advantages which could arise from the political eminence of one of its principal characters, General HARRISON, who was at that time a candidate for the presidency. It was brought out in New York in the spring of 1842. "Tecumseh" is a narrative poem, founded on the nistory of the celebrated chief whose name is chosen for its title, and whose efforts to unite the various divisions of the red race into one grand confederacy, to regain their lost inheritance, though unsuccessful, constitute the most striking and sublime episode in the aboriginal history of this country. The measure of the main part of the poem, which extends through nine long cantos, and nearly fourteen thousand lines, is octo-syllabic. The versification is free, and generally correct, though in some cases marred by inexcusable carelessness, and phraseology more tame and unmeaning than, had he kept his manuscript the Horatian period, the author would have permitted to go before the critics. There are scattered through the work many passages of minute and skilful description of external nature, and interwoven

with the main story is one of love, resulting, like most tales of the kind, in the perfect felicity of the parties. Considered as the production of an author but twenty-three years of age, commenced while he was still in college, and finished soon after, under circumstances most unfavorable for poetical composition, it was generally praised, but it was not successful; it was read by few, and the first and only American edition was sold very slowly.

In the autumn of 1844 Mr. COLTON issued in New York the first number of "The American Review, a Whig Journal of Politics, Literature, Art, and Science," and of this work, which was issued monthly from the commencement of the following year, he remained editor and proprietor until his death, which occurred after a long and painful illness, induced by too severe mental and physical labor, on the evening of the first of December, 1847.

Mr. COLTON was an accurate scholar, and a very rapid and industrious writer. Besides numerous papers, in prose and verse, printed in his periodicals, and a few weeks before his death own magazine, he contributed frequently to other wrote to me that his poems had accumulated so fast that he should print a new volume, nearly as large as "Tecumseh," in which the leading and title-giving piece would be "The Forsaken❞—the story of a young girl, nurtured in the forest, and abandoned by a stranger, from the city, who had won her heart-which he had published in the eleventh volume of the "Democratic Review."

Nearly all his poems are diffuse, and they all need-
ed the file; but though he saw their defects, he had
no patience for revision, and probably they would
never have been improved. A severer style, how-
ever, might have been attained by him if he had
permitted him in new compositions to attempt
lived, and the harassing cares of his profession had
those excellences of execution which no one more
importance.
readily appreciated or confessed to be of higher

The distinguishing and most poetical element in Mr. COLTON's character was an intense love of nature. This is evident from his poems, and was much more so from his demeanor and conversation. Beautiful scenery and the more remarkable phenomena of the seasons, produced in him fre quently a species of intoxication. "I shall never do myself justice," he said, referring to a discourse which he had delivered on the Eloquence of the Indians, "until I can write in the woods, and by the untrodden shores of the lakes. Let me become rich enough for this, and you shall see what I was made for."

GEORGE H. COLTON.

EXTRACTS FROM "TECUMSEH."

TECUMSEH AND THE PROPHET.

NEVER did eye a form behold
At once more finished, firm, and bold.
Of larger mould and loftier mien
Than oft in hall or bower is seen,
And with a browner hue than seems
To pale maid fair, or lights her dreams,
He yet revealed a symmetry
Had charmed the Grecian sculptor's eye,-
A massive brow, a kindled face,
Limbs chiseled to a faultless grace,

Beauty and strength in every feature,
While in his eyes there lived the light
Of a great soul's transcendant might-
Hereditary lord by nature!

As stood he there, the stern, unmoved,
Except his eagle glance that roved,
And darkly limned against the sky
Upon that mound so lone and high,
He looked the sculptured god of wars,
Great Odin, or Egyptian Mars,
By crafty hand, from dusky stone,
Immortal wrought in ages gone,
And on some silent desert cast,
Memorial of the mighty Past.

And yet, though firm, though proud his glance,
There was upon his countenance
That settled shade which, oft in life,
Mounts upward from the spirit's strife,
As if upon his soul there lay
Some grief which would not pass away.
The other's lineaments and air
Revealed him plainly brother born

Of him, who on that summit bare
So sad, yet proudly, met the morn:
But, lighter built, his slender frame
Far less of grace, as strength, could claim;
And, with an eye that, sharp and fierce,
Would seem the gazer's breast to pierce,
And lowering visage, all the while
Inwrought of subtlety and guile,
Whose every glance, that darkly stole,
Bespoke the crafty cruel soul.
There was from all his presence shed
A power-a chill mysterious dread—
Which made him of those beings seem,
That shake us in the midnight dream.
Yet were his features, too, o'ercast
With mournfulness, as if the past
Had been one vigil, painful, deep and long
Of hushed Revenge still brooding over wrong.
No word was said: but long they stood,
And side by side, in thoughtful mood,
Watched the great curtains of the mist
Up from the mighty landscape move;
'T was surely spirit-hands, they wist,
Did lift them from above.
And when, unveiled to them alone
The solitary world was shown,

And dew from all the mound's green sod
Rose, like an incense, up to God,
Reclined, yet silent still, they bent
Their eyes on heaven's deep firmament-

As if were open to their view
The stars' sun-flooded homes of blue;
Or gazed, with mournful sternness, o'er
The rolling prairie stretched before-
While round them, fluttering on the breez
The sere leaves fell from faded trees.

THE DEATH OF TECUMSEH

FORTH at the peal each charger sped,
The hard earth shook beneath their tread
The dim woods, all around them spread,

Shone with their armor's light:
Yet in those stern, still lines, assailed,
No eye-ball shrunk, no bosom quailed,
No foot was turned for flight;
But, thundering as their foemen came,
Each rifle flashed its deadly flame.
A moment, then recoil and rout,
With reeling horse and struggling shout,
Confused that onset fair;

But, rallying each dark steed once more,
Like billows borne the low reefs o'er,

With foamy crests in air,
Right on and over them they bore,
With gun and bayonet thrust before,

And swift swords brandish'd bare.
Then madly was the conflict waged,
Then terribly red Slaughter raged!
How still is yet yon dense morass

The bloody sun below!
Where'er yon chosen horsemen pass
There stirs no bough nor blade of grass,

There moves no secret foe!...
Sudden from tree and thicket green,
From trunk and mound and bushy screen,
Sharp lightning flashed with instant sheen,

A thousand death-bolts sung!
Like ripened fruit before the blast,
Rider and horse to earth were cast,

Its miry roots among;
Then wild-as if that earth were riven,
And, pour'd beneath the cope of heaven,
All hell to upper air were given-

One fearful whoop was rung....
Then loud the crash of arms arose,
As when two forest whirlwinds close;
Then filled all heaven their shout and yell,
As if the forests on them fell!

I

see, where swells the thickest fight,
With sword and hatchet brandish'd bright,
And rifles flashing sulphurous light
Through green leaves gleaming red-
I see a plume, now near, now far,
Now high, now low, like falling star
Wide waving o'er the tide of war,
Where'er the onslaught's led......
Above the struggling storm I hear
A lofty voice the war-bands cheer-
Still, as they quail with doubt or fear,
Yet loud and louder given-
And, rallying to the clarion cry,
With club and red axe raging high,
And sharp knives sheathing low,
Fast back again, confusedly,
They drive the staggering foe.

ARTHUR CLEVELAND COXE.

[Born, 1818.]

MR. COXE is the eldest son of the Reverend
SAMUEL H. COXE, D. D., of Brooklyn. He was
born in Mendham, in New Jersey, on the tenth
day of May, 1818. At ten years of age he was
sent to a gymnasium at Pittsfield, in Massachu-
setts, and he completed his studies preparatory to
entering the University of New York, under the
private charge of Doctor BusH, author of "The
Life of Mohammed," etc. While in the univer-
sity he distinguished himself by his devotion to
classic learning, and particularly by his acquaint-
ance with the Greek poets. In his freshman year
he delivered a poem before one of the undergra-
duates' societies, on "The Progress of Ambition,"
and in the same period produced many spirited
metrical pieces, some of which appeared in the
periodicals of the time. In the autumn of 1837
he published his first volume, "Advent, a Mys-
tery," a poem in the dramatic form, to which was
prefixed the following dedication :

FATHER, as he of old who reap'd the field,

The first young sheaves to Him did dedicate
Whose bounty gave whate'er the glebe did yield,
Whose smile the pleasant harvest might create-
So I to thee these numbers consecrate,
Thou who didst lead to Silo's pearly spring;

And if of hours well saved from revels late
And youthful riot, I these fruits do bring,
Accept my early vow, nor frown on what I sing.

This work was followed in the spring of 1838 by

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"Athwold, a Romaunt;" and in the summer of the same year were printed the first and second cantos of "Saint Jonathan, the Lay of a Scald." These were intended as introductory to a novel in the stanza of « Don Juan," and four other cantos were afterward written, but wisely destroyed by the author on his becoming a candidate for holy orders, an event not contemplated in his previous studies. He was graduated in July, and on the occasion delivered an eloquent valedictory

oration.

From this period his poems assumed a devotional cast, and were usually published in the periodicals of the church.

Taught, from sweet childhood, to revere in the
Earth's every virtue, writ in poesie,
Nigh did I leap, on CLIO's calmer line,
To see thy story with our own entwine.
On Yale's full walls, no pictured shape to me
Like BERKELEY's seem'd, in priestly dignity,
Such as he stood, fatiguing, year by year,
In our behoof, dull prince and cavalier;
And dauntless still, as erst the Genoese;
Such as he wander'd o'er the Indy seas
To vex'd Bermoothes, witless that he went
Mid isles that beckon'd to a continent.
Such there he seem'd, the pure, the undefied!
And meet the record! Though, perchance, I smiled
That those, in him, themselves will glory,
Who reap his fields, but let his doctrine die,
Yet, let him stand: the world will note it well,
And Time shall thank them for the chronicle
By such confess'd, COLUMBUS of new homes
For song, and Science with her thousand tones,
Yes-pure apostle of our western lore,
Spoke the full heart, that now may breathe it mote,
Still in those halls, where none without a sneer
Name the dear title of thy ghostly fear,
Stand up, bold bishop-in thy priestly vest;
Proof that the Church bore letters to the West!

In the autumn of the same year appeared M COXE'S "Christian Ballads," a collection of re gious poems, of which the greater number ha previously been given to the public through the columns of "The Churchman." They are ele forties, and rites of the Protestant Episcopu gant, yet fervent expressions of the author's love for the impressive and venerable customs, cere

Church.

While in the university, Mr. Coxx had, besides acquiring the customary intimacy with ancient literature, learned the Italian language; and he now, under Professor NORDHEIMER, devoted two years to the study of the Hebrew and the Get

man.

After passing some time in the Divicity School at Chelsea, he was admitted to deacon's orders, by the Bishop of New York, on the twen ty-eighth of June, 1841. In the following July, on receiving the degree of Master of Arts from the University, he pronounced the closing oration. by appointment of the faculty; and in August be accepted a call to the rectorship of Saint Anne's church, then recently erected by Mr. GOUVERNEUR MORRIS, on his domain of Morrisiana. He was mar ried the same year to his third cousin, Miss CATHE RINE CLEVELAND, daughter of Mr. SIMEON HYDE Mr. COXE was several years rector of St. John's Church, in Hartford; in 1851 he visited Europe, and in 1854 became minister of Grace Church, in Balti more. He has published, besides the works already mentioned, in verse, "Saul, a Mystery," "Advent, a Mystery," and "Halloween;" and in prose," Sym pathies of the Continent," "Impressions of Eng land," "Sermons," and, from the French of the Abbe LABORDE, "The New Dogma of Rome."

pronounced before the alumni of Washington His "Athanasion" was College, in Connecticut, in the summer of 1840. It is an irregular ode, and contains passages of considerable merit, but its sectarian character will prevent its receiving general applause. The following allusion to Bishop BERKELEY is from this poem:

Oft when the eve-star, sinking into day,
Seems empire's planet on its westward way,
Comes, in soft light from antique window's groin,
Thy pure ideal, mitred saint of Cloyne!

*Among them "The Blues" and "The Hebrew Muse," in "The American Monthly Magazine."

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