The messenger. (Fort Hawkins, Ga.) 1823-1823, August 04, 1823, Image 4

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The messenger., August 04, 1823, Image 4

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Newspaper Page Textwjrjfifrsr* SJSTE VIATOR. \ The followin'* beautiful stanzas, by •T/r. Rowrig. are from a little work, entitled, “ J fat ins and Vespers .”] Look around thee—sec Decay, her wings of darkness, sweeping Earth’s proud niomiincnfs away— See the M use of History weeping O’er the ruins Time hath made— Strength to dust and ashes laid, irtuc in oblivion sleeping. Look around thee—Wisdom there Careless Death confounds with Folly In a common sepulchre ! Hec the unrighteous and the holy .Wended in the general wreck, A Veil those tears may wet f liy check— Tears and doubts and melancholy. Took around thee—Beauty’s light Is extinguished,—*death assembles Youth’s gay morn, and age’s night— And the stedfast mountain trembles At his glance like autumn’s leaf— All he cries, is vain, is brief; And the tyrant ne’er dissembles. Look behind thee—cities hid In the night of treacherous story; Many a crumbling pyramid, Many a pile of senseless glory, Temples into ruin hurl'd, j (Fragments of an earlier world,) Broken sanes, and altars hoary. Look behind thee—men whose frown Made whole nations quake before What is left of their renown P [them W recks around, oblivion o’er them. Kings and conquerors, where are they? Ask yon worthless heaps of clay— Oh despise not, but deplore them ! Look behind thee—bards sublime, Smiling nymphs, and solemn sages— Go ! inquire their names of tune ; Bid it read its earliest pages. Foolish questioner! If Line [name— Guard through years a cherished Fame itself decays in ages. Look before thee—all the glare, All the pomp, around thee glowing; All that charms the eye or ear, Strains of softest music llowirig, Grace and beaujty all are sped Tow ards the ruins of the dead : Thither thou and thine are going. Look before thee—at yon vault W here ‘1 iine’s ravage is recorded. Thou wil’t be compelled to halt; Thou wilt be no more regarded ‘I lian the meekest, meanest slave, Sleeping in a common grave, Unrespected—nine warded. Look before thee—at thy feet Monarchs sleep like meaner creatures: Where the voices, now so sweet ? Where the fair ones’smiling features? Hopest thou to escape the tomb r That which was thy father’s doom W ill be thine, thy son’s and nature’s. Look above thee—there indeed May thy thoughts repose delighted. II tliv wounded bosom bleed, If thy loudest hopes are blighted, There a stream of comfort Hows : Wander, then, no more benighted. Look above thee—ages roll, Present, past, and future blending— Earth hath nought to soothe a soul ’Neath alllictions burden bending, Nothing ’gainst the tempest’s shock ; H eaven must be the pilgrim’s rock, And to heaven his steps are tending. Look alqivc thee—never eye Saw such pleasure’s as await thee; [joy Though ne’er reached such scenes of Light undying—seraphs’ Dies— Angel welcomes—cherub-choirs Smiling through heaven's doors to j greet thee. ON A SCULL. The following lines, by Lord Byron , ore hardly inferior to Hamlet’s medi tations in the grave-yard: Look on its broken arch,its ruin’d wall, Its chambers desolate and portals toul, Yes,this was once ambition’s airy hall, The seat of thought, the palace of the sou!, Behold thro’ each lack-lustre eye-less hole The gay recess of wisdom, aud of wit. Can all that saint, sage, sophist ever writ People this lonely tower—its tenement refit ? From the Itichmond Enquirer. THOMAS MOORE. The present age has given to the world a rich and extraordinary com bination of genius. Centuries have been compressed as it were to years.— In military science history has to re cord a succession of stupendous prodi gies to which no parallel can be found m her “ ample pnge.” Yfe have lived in the “immediate time” of that great captain whose achievements will be regarded by posterity as fables. M c have lived to witness our own Pulton connecting the most important rela tions of commerce, and holding in his hands as subjects the winds and the waves. We have seen the bright star of Liberty arise in France. It has set in a sea f blood. But it has not arisen in vain. It has communicated a vital and quickening impulse to the torpor of Europe. Ihe progress of public sympathy and opinion, the march of mind becomes every day more conspicuous and decisive, In agr iculture, commerce, and manufactures scarce a month revolves but some im portant desiderata are “bursting int birtli.” In the polite arts which min ster to the most refined and cultivated, enjoyments —where taste spreads the banquet of science; what a diversified field is presented? How varying and rapid the improvement? Take the progress of poetry for example. W hat a cluster of genius is presented in Great Britain. Passing by the “ Lake School,” which by the bye has its pa trons and numerous admirers ; leaving Southey and his class ; and yet it is j but bare justice to remark that Lis “ Roderick” contains many fine deli neations of character, ennobled by passages of the most lofty and beauti ful description; if the number of Bri tish poets were reduced to three, they would present a rare and admirable combination Scott Byron and Moore. I AN alter Scon has won for himself an imperishable wreath. He has ad vanced with slow’ and cautious steps to the distinguished pinnacle on which he stands. He is indebted as much (if not more) to incessant labor and continued toil, than to any other cause for this high elevation. His mind is neither rapid, nor rich. Indeed he is utterly deficient in that generous glow of feeling and that ardent vein of pas sion which communicates equally the intense inspiration of genius—and those wild, wayward, and melancholy aberrations, by which genius is so of ten and fatally accompanied. To il lustrate this remark, Byron presents a mournful application. Byron is a man of genius—and of its noblest order.— But Byron lias not been like Scott, a man of prudence. Scott’s success in poetry was immediate and decisive.— ‘The cause of that success is obvious. He first triumphed over “thefatal fa cility of the octave,” and having thus secured a measure of versification adapted to his subjects; “ a mellow horn” as Collins terms it,he poured up on his readers all the witcheries of ro mance and border chivalry. It’s no velty attracted; and success, and fame, and wealth, crowned his ef forts. But the fame of Walter Scott does not rest upon this base. He is hailed by a nobler title. The laurels of the “ Great Unknown ” have been bound to bis brow', ‘five evidence upon this subject is massive, clear, indisputable. For this large space of honor he is again indebted to his “ border lore.” Labor, patience, and perseverance ef fect miracles. fjokd Byron’s genius is wild and magnificent. It possesses every qual ity to concentrate the deepest affec tions of the heart —every energy to appal the passions in their mad career. It occasionally exhibits an intensity and bitterness which outstrips all competition. Sir Walter Scott in all his “ pride of place,” with the ever blooming wreath of Waverly must shrink into a secondary station before the burning spells of this magician of the passions. Yet it is an atmosphere of repulsion, in which he moves. It is gloomy, cold, and solitary grandeur. But the charm of genius attaches irre sistibly—and how many have deplored that this “ high gifted man” had not given to his splendid powers a nobler direction. Thomas Moore is a man of singu lar and extraordinary talents—brill iant accomplishments—and refined and cultivated taste. He entered up on life with the most exalting expecta tions. Courted even by sages, and caressed by the fair, the morning of his existence was clear and beautified —not a cloud iloated upon the hori zon ; * * * * “the azure arched sky “ Looked pure as the Spirit, that made it.” lie had every advantage of person ami address, great vivacity of tempe rament, and an indication to be pleas ed with the world and every person in it. He was ushered into public regard too by u fine translation of Anacreon and some volumes of minor poetry, in which offences against modesty were attributed to the overflowings of a rich and fertile imagination. —At this time he was the life and spirit of the gayest coteries ot Europe : “The expectancy and rose of the fair state, [form.” The glass of fashion, and the mould of He came to America, and was re ceived with open arms. He passed in smiling guise throughout the land, and was every where met with glee, gaie ty and unbounded hospitality. How he requited these civilities, it is unnecessary to mention. Many felt at the time, and some retain to this j. . iml no very pleasant recollections on the subject. It was easy to perceive in the sa tires, however, in which we were so unmercifully belaboured, the progress and expansion of his mind. Ilisversi lication had become attuned to that rich and flowing melody, by which it has been so much distinguished after warfls and in which lie excelled alibis competitors. Upon his return he pub lished his “ Irish Melodies.” The veriest churl cannot deny to these ad mirable compositions a full measure ts fame. There is scarcely an emotion of tenderness —a generous sensibility to pride and honor—a pure and holy devotion to country, a kind and un mixed sympathy for suffering, that he has not touched—touched with the hand of a master, and made the string vibrate to the heart. It is upon these that Moore inustrc- I ly. And after his oriental romances, his Veiled Prophets and his Fire Wor shippers —the gross day dreams of his Littles and the etherial Loves of his Angels shall have been forgotten, Tiie Melodies will remain green as his own loved isle. Indeed they possess an interest extrinsic of their merit. Give me, says Montesquieu, the writing of the songs of a country, and 1 care not who makes the laws. The recollec tion must be fresh in every mind of the terrible and ferocious*results, when the pealing swell of the Marseilles hymn was raised in the French Revo lution. And it is a fact beyond dis pute that Dibden contributed more by Ins songs to the British Navy, than the valour of its most distinguished of ficers effected. The next publication the “ Two penny post bag,” contribu ted to advance in an eminent degree his literary reputation. It is unique— there is nothing like it for w it and ele gance of repartee in the English lan guage. But poor Moore had better taken Juvenal’s advice, and wrote a bad poem to be laughed at, than one so replete with offence to “ the fattest and best fitted prince” in Christendom At that time he was secretary to Lord Men a who was about to pioceed to his government in India. The situation was a lucrative one, Moore’s prospects at that time embarrassing, and those embarrassments heavily increased (if not created) by the expenses of his outfit. It was no sooner published than the Prince waddled oft’in a high huff. Yes, he took a noble—a royal revenge. This ‘ Maecenas of Tailors,’ cut him oft’ from the appointment and turned him adrift pennyless and hope less. Some pretended surprise—oth ers affected indignation, but it was all in character—what other could have been expected from that heart, “ all mean as it is ,” which permitted,Sheri dan to expire for the want of the com mon necessaries of life ? Nay, which permitted the bailiffs to seize the last blankets from his expiring frame ; and had then the meanness to send him some pitiful sum in the last agonies of death, but which, “ Finding all his wants at an end, teas returned .” Yet it was to this Sheridan the Prince made his fondest professions, and whom he once told he wore him in his heart of hearts. Compared to this Moore’s was but “ an ordinary case at court.” It lias sufficed, however, to break down the tone of his mind, and to dry up and extinguish all the resources ol his genius. Look at his subsequent publica tions and see the result. How just the application of his own beautiful lines, “ The harp that once in Tara’s halls, ‘l'lie soul of music shed, Now hangs as mute on Tara’s walls, As if that soul were fled.” In his ‘Loves of the Angpls,’ who can recognize the spirit of Moore ? There are some gleams, however, of his pristine powers. —He has now sunk —and the individual who in his last work, * babbles for the Holy Alliance,’ &e. would seek for even a spark, will but blow ashes. His imprecation on genius from this work is perhaps an exception, and is subjoined : it is a fitting commentary on the text. “ What an impostor genius is— How, with that strong mimetic art Which is its life and soul, it takes All shapes of thought, all hues of heart, Nor feels itself, one throb it wakes — How like a gem its light may smile O'er the dark path by mortals trod, Itself as mean a worm the while, As crawls along the sullying sod— \\ hat sensibility may fall From its false lip—w hat plans to bless, Y\ bile home, friends, country, kin dred, all Lie waste beneath its selfishness— How, with the pencil hardly dry From colouring up 9uch fccncs of mvc And beauty, as make young hearts sigh “ [they rove— And dream and think thro’ Heaven They who can thus describe and move The very workers of these charms Nor seek nor ask a heaven above Some Marian’s or Theresa's arms: How all in short that makes the boast, Os their false tongues, they want the most: ; And while with freedom on their lips, Sounding her timbrels, to set free This bright world, laboring in the eclipse Os priestcraft and of slavery: They may themselves, be slaves as low, As ever lord or patron made To blossom in his smile, or grow, I.ike stunted brush-wood in the shade. Out on thejeraft. I’d rather be One of those herds that round me tread, With just enough of sense to see The noon-days sun that’s o’er mv head, Than thus with high-built genius curst That hath no heart for its foundation, Beall, at once,thatsbrightest— w'orst, Sublimest—meanest in creation.” ARION. INDIAN SAGACITY. The Charleston City Gazette, in delineating the character of the Florida Indians, introduces the following characteristic Anecdote. “ A country store of the house of Panton Leslie & Cos. managed by Mr. John Forrester, had been rob bed of a keg containing articles of value, and a reward was offered for its recovery. Some days had elap sed and not the smallest suspicion entertained of its course, when an Indian who sold venison among the plantations, arrived and heard of the circumstance. He examined the roads near the place, pondering on the various tracks that had gone to and fro, and at length discover ed one that had turned off from the road into the woods; this he fol lowed, and argued as he went:— “ Who leaves .the smooth to travel on the rough, has some particular motive for doing so.” Going far ther on, he remarked, “ by the struggle of the track, this person travelled at night;” and “by the shortness of the steps he either car ried a load, or was hurried.” At the distance of about two miles he came to where a horse had been tied in the woods, and fed on rye. —“No one in this neighborhood,” continued he, ‘ cultivates rye, and there are hut three who do on this side of the river.’ He found a lea ther string, such as are commonly used to tie a bundle to a saddle.— ‘ This has tied the bag of proven der on the horse, this person lives far off.’ He carefully put up the string, and continued on the track 1 until he got to a spot where there was some mud, in order to examine closelv the track of the horse, and discovered that the left hoof had a small split in it. He then turned off to procure venison to take- to those plantations where he suppo sed the rye had come from, as an excuse for finding the same horse. At the first and second his search was in vain, but he discovered him \ at the third, thirty miles from where the robbei v had been committed. The next question was, whether ; the master or servant rode him.— He produced the leather string to the master, and asked him if he had lost it. ‘ Where did you find it ?’ “ Where you fed your horse j on rye, at such a place.” Some little change in the countenance was enough; the Indian sneaked and concealed himself in the woods, where he could have a view of the suspected pei son’s move ments, who as soon as he thought the Indian fairly oft, went to a thick et some distance from the house, land returned. The Indian then circled round until he got on his track, and following it, he found he had been to the keg and removed it to a more secure place. The In dian removed it to another, and re turning, informed Mr. Forester, who he brought with him to the place, recounting his process as they went along. The keg and all its contents were recovered, and the Indian rewarded. Provincial Dictionary, for the conve nience of Emigrants. WESTERN DIALECT. Gum,s. A hollow tree. Chance, s. Quantity. Heap, s. Quantity,—or * I think a heap of Mr. .’ Carry, v. a. To lead a quddruped. Harr, s. A wild animal known by the name of bear. l)isranemb?r, v. a. To forget. Peter, v. a. To amble along. Reckon, v. a. To suppose, to affirm, Fanent, Opposite. Smart, a. Large. Tower, s. Quantity—“ a power oi hogs,” “ a power of corn.” Caution, A quantity of any tliinn-. Crap, s. A crop of corn. Stock, s. Horses, hogs and cptie. Trap, s. A drop of ft uid. Hope, v. To help ; ‘shall I hope vein plate.’ * Tote, v. a. To bear by corporeal es. fort. Marr, s. A female horse. llarr, s. That substance which cov ers the skin of quadrupeds. Let-on, v. a. To acknowledge— “ I never let on that I k::ow'’d him. ’ Honey-love, s. A child. Bushel, s. A measure by which milk is guaged. Shet of, v. a. To dispose of—” pj be monstrous glad if I mought get shet of my marr.” Shucks, s. Husks. Plunder, s. Personal property. Soft, a. Soft. Mought, pret. of may—Permission or ability to do. Peert, a. Cheerful, full of animal spirits. Riscake. Biscuit. Rock, s. A small stone. Cuppen, s. The enclosure within which milch-cows are kept. YANKEE DIALECT. Spry, a. Active. Wonderments, s. Curiosities. ll eft, s. Weight. Hnm, s. Home. J\'otions, s. Small articles. Guess, v. n. To-suppose, to suspect* JVateral, a. Natural. I 111 n A**, s. Bulk, a large body. Gob, s. Bulk, a large body. Park-State, s. The State of Xew- York. Spatter, A comparative word—as thick as spatter.” Squermed, Twisted, coiled up. Rumpus, s. Disturbance, noise, riot. Clever, a. Good-natured, silly, inof fensive. Scrape, s. Affray, aftair. Our Folks, s. A term by which the whole family, including servants, cats, and dogs are alluded to. Our-house, s. A term by which a freeholder modestly acknowledges a partnership subsisting between him self, wife and children. Likely, a. Handsome, pretty, intel ligent. Raise, v. a. To propagate hogs and cattle. Simplicity and integrity of Savins Mountaineers. —A peasant named Frantz, came one evening to loot for Gasper who was mowing a mea dow, and said, ‘ My friend this is my harvest; thou knowest we have a dispute about this meadow ? we know not to whom it properly be* longs; to decide this question, I ‘have collected the judges at Schwitz : come then to-morrow with me before them.’ “ Thou seest Frantz, that I have mowed the meadow, I cannot be absent.’— And I cannot send away the Judg es, who have fixed on this day.— Indeed we should have known to whom it belonged before it was mown.’ They had some little con troversy on the subject; but at last Gasper said : “ I will tell thee what thou “shalt do. Go to Schwitz give the Judges my reasons and thine ; and I shall save the trouble of going myself.’ On this agree memt Frantz went to plead for and against himself and threw out rea sons on both sides as well as he j could. When the Judges had de cied, he went to Gasper: ‘ The meadow’ is thine : the sentence is in thy favour.’—People the earth with such men and happiness will dwell there ! Swiss Tourist. Prompt Repartee. —-A clergyman, eminent for his talents and piety, was hissed by a number of his hear ers. The good man’s friends were much affected with such daring insolence, and afterwards expressed their sorrow to their worthy pastor To which he immediately replied,. “ I have been bruising the head ol the old serpent, and no wonder V oU heard the hisses of the generation of vipers.” Adam , and his wife, in the neighborhood of Perth, were called to a parochial examination. their way the worthy man slippy a foot, and upset. Arriving at the session house, the clergyman askea the woman, “ What was the oau? 1 of Adam's fall ?” She immediate!) answered, “ Ah, sir I dinna ki what was the cause o’ his la’ but 1 was an unco dirty fa’ forhehursle into the ditch, and his breeks wen a’ clav.”