Phenix gazette. [volume] (Alexandria [D.C.]) 1825-1833, 1826-12-16

And thus the sufferer chcered;
Spurn, spurn despair! be great, be free!
With giant strength arise;
Stretch, stretch thy pnions Liberty,
Thy flag plant in the skies!
Clothe, clothe yself in glory's robe,
Let stars thy banner gem;
Rule, rule the sea-possess the globe
Wear yictory's diadem.
Go, tell the world world is born,
Another orb gives light;
Another sun illumes the morn,
Another star the night;
Be Just, be bravei and let thy name
Henceforth Columbia be;
Wear, wear the oaken wreath of fame,
The wreath of Liberty
He sad-and 10! the stars of night
Forth to her banner flew;
And morn with pencil dipped in light
Her bushes on it drew;
Columbia'S chieftain seized the prize,
All gloriously unfurled:
Scared with II to his native skies,
And waved it DER the world
We mos, again be permitted 10 asserr the
high claims Of this Poem, and 10 add, that the
brilliant mine which furnished ii, must be at
fuen, with gems of inestimahle value, Alas!
mental and physical powers are seldom united
the cloud Of morbid sensibli,y, obscures the
horizon of genius; she basks only in the sun
shine Of her dreams, in the empire ct her ina
giaation, but all her realities belong to the abb
sence Of her shadow-sp Iendors, she ga7es in a
ffattering mirror, which, to be true, must be
broken.
But allons-we must return to Mr.. Bryan;
and we are sorry 10 declare, shat our answer to
the following question: would by no means re-
dound to the glory Of American patronage:
s'Shan free Columbia share the deep reproach
BY which ungrsteful lands are stigmatized,
Nor aid her SONS of Genius!
Fen now, injurious Rumor is abroad,
And breathes against her gratitude, tale
That strikes pang through many patriots heart !"
[pp 53-54
1t NAV be here remarked, that the poetry Of
the pencil, together with the poetry of the harp,
has found in foreign land, those sustaining
blessings, that were withheld at the hreside OF
the maternal home We certainly yield our
assent 10 the aspersions or praises OF another
cline, and we have never stepped forward bold
ly to asser. the empire of our bellies etlres with
the same alacrity that we have manifested for
diplomacy or war. The glittering of armour,
The mazes of subtlety, and The hustle Of nation
al prosperity have frightened the muse from
her imperial haunis her withered chap!et, how
ever, blossoms with renovated beauty in Eng
land, and Irving and Cooper wear upon their
brows, what Brown wears upon his grave-a
garland from the home of Shakespeare, of Mil
ton, and OF Burns To illustrate our position, it
will be sufficient merely 10 write the names of
West, Als,on aud Wilkie, our favored min
s,rels of painting.
All! well-a-day, what paradox is genius?-
her dearest influence arises fl ON her SORROWS
the restless taper of the brake and fen resem-
bles her-its beams are cast upon torlorn MAJ
es; bu, still those beams are bright, ii is true,
TO the magician Of the lake, who kindled its
mysterious flame, (and real genius is always
true, il attends the maynard blossoms that
lean lii winners blight upon the stream, II lights
the poet to his world of glow-worm magma
ton, and il attends the spectre Of the forest 10
her haunted cell.
If Coffin is poet, he is also q moralist: the
rainbow Of his verse was never subseryient to
the cataract of evil that which he created "a
dornpd, may be scanned by the sage accepted by
the matron, and admired by the kindling virgin.
We are proud 10 have it in our power TO adj
duce the testimony Of the Samaritan minstrel
{" Bryan" in favor Of the purity of our forlorn
but gifted Boslonian; and his name shall belong
to the kindred excellence of that Bard who de-
sired To blot no line from his works when the
hand of death admonshed him that he belong
ed to the mysteries Of eternity. His reward is
in heaven. "Not his the verse;" says the text,
-''that virtue must condemn:
No reptiles through its Aowry chaplets wind,
In sly concealment, Beauty's heart to sting
The young and innocent may safely read,
And virgin loneliness may chaunt his song,
Nor blush TO own it yields her ear delight. p 81
To conclude-what we have said belongs TO
justice, no, TO mercy; we despise the reluctant
aid that only hesiiafes word or two Of misery
applause, we shun the censorial idiot which Is
es,ranged from the heart; we krow that death
opens the portal of fame, and we know that the
Boston Bard shall not sojourn with us. Those
who desire to achieve the honor Of assisting
him, must not sumber; his lamp is waning, and
he is soon destined to become a portion OF that
tranquility, which belongs to the heather that
shall wither on his grave. The muse Of Bryan,
the Lament of Farmer, shall avail him nought.
But the whispers Of his Lyre, shall belong to
the trembling reed, to the blossoms of perpetu-
alsprlng, and the rose shall bend over his tomb,