The Massachusetts spy, and Worcester County advertiser. [volume] ([Worcester, Mass.]) 1825-1831, 1828-01-09

/
STA. He did not take the journey, howev-
er, until the month of May in the present
year, and it was on his arrival in Russia
that he received the news of the choice
which called him to the Government of the
affairs of Greece. After a residence of
two months in Russia, he retraced his
steps, and was in France at the last advic-
es, having brought decree whereby the
Emperor Nicholas gives him complete
discharge from his service, in terms which
at once demonstrate the personal senti-
ments entertained by his Sovereign to-
wards him, and the character of the recol-
lections he has left behind him in Russia.
AMBITION.
lfthere are any dark spots in life uponwhich
we may look back, where the bitter waters
OF affection have been mingled in the chal-
Ice ofjoy, their origin may be traced to i'm
pure and unbounded passions. 1 would
not gainsay the truth, that reasonable as
| pirings after honor, or riches, or fame, are
laudable. There is perhaps no feeling of
the human heart more interviewer with our
natures than the passion of Ambition. 1t
! Is the sweet food of our fancy, when we
awake in the glowing and halcyon days of
our sunny youth, while we are irlesistably
led to contemplate life as but gilded pa
norama, wherein all bright and beautiful
objects are concentrated-when the visions
of hope sprung up like flowers in the youth
fnl bosom-when no storm is lowering
when no tempest hath gathered. Were it
possible that the dreams of our ambition
that one half of our vain yearning for hon.
or or fame could be fulfilled, then might the
aspiring bosom thrill with delight-then
might this earth be deemed but another
EDEN, where the spirit of Joy shed its hal
lowed ecstacies-where the dark clouds of
evil were not permitted to lower-or the
titful and feverish disappointments OF life
came not in their bitterness to the tranquil
spirit.
But alas las Time bears away on its
troubled wave, the dim lapses of our faded
years, to ngngle with the shoreless ocean
of Eternity, how do the thronging plans of
human ambition decay within that breast
where they sprung? The dark and sor
rowful truth Of maturer years, is presented
in bitter exchange for the gorgeous and
over-wrought colorings of the young and
enthusiast soul. 1t is only experience
that constant prince-that bitter monitor
which may tell us how futile are many of
our fond expectations and it is not until
we have found the garlands of our young
existence withered--until we find the
tempest clouds Of disappointment lowering
darkly above and around us, where he had
deemed the sun of pleasure poured flood
of glory from the Respondent zenith of his
course, that we are forced to eXclaim, as
we look back upon the bright morning of
our childhood, and the shadows and sun
shine of our departed existence, that
"-Years steal
Fire from the mind as vigor from the limb;
And LIES enchanted cup out sparkles near the
brim "
A thousand objects, as we start into life,
conspire to fill the soul with the passion of
Ambition. Who can look with the clear
and ardent eye of youth, upon the flowers
with which his future path of life appears
to be strewn, and not seek to weave a
wreath of their varied and glowing colors
/ Who can contemplate the star Of Fame
BILE around her dizzy height, and not feel
his bosom swell with emotions which he
can never express, and yet which he can
not entirely conceal? 1t is this which
causes the proud conquerer to rejoice, as
he sits on his triumphal chariot, with the
gathered spoils and trophies of nature a
round him. 1t is this which thrills the bo-
som of the Philosopher, and fills with the
fire of thought the Poets eye.
But this may be reasonably inferred, that
the thoughts of our own dissolution car
: never have place in our bosoms, while
they throb with the restless and aspiring
emotions of our dawning years. Could this
below soon would they vanish away, and
the musing spirit be brought to ponder or
the mutability of all earthly objects. 1t is
DEATH, which is the terror and the bitter
enemy to impure pleasure and unholy am
bition. Its voice is as the sound of many
waters-as the great deep, which liftetI
up his hands on high ;"-and it speaks t.
that ear which is not more deaf than the
adder, saying "All is vanity"
|, Ask hlm who turns away in the uttel
hopelessness of his, spirit, and the broken
ness of his own sorrowful heart from thu
f grave of one he loved :-perchance wife
, "a kind parent-an attractive brother
or an atfectionate sister, to whose sympa
thlslng heart he submitted all his sorrow!
and his joys-Ask him where is the syrel
song OF pleasure which beguiled them OF
earth-Ask him if the recollection of thei
f buoyancy of spirit brings back the fire o
life to the pale and Wondering clay The
convulsive sigh, and the bursting tear viii
, he his mourniul reply-Ask the warrior a:
he fingers upon the bed of death-what j:
the tumult of the camp-the glee OF the
garrison-the Gathering of the war-hoof-
the deafening clangor of the trumpet and
the din of arms /? His hollow voice and
struggling accents viii exclaim-" They
are as the viewless wind, and the grave
will soon shut out their memory" Ask the
man of pleasure-where are the darling
visions-the unreal fantasies which he
has pursued from his childhood-and he
i mill tnn L. C. Il