The Rhode-Island Republican. [volume] (Newport, R.I.) 1809-1841, 1831-11-08

Porxs OF N p. Willis - We have before US a
volume of Poems by Mr.. Wills, Zone Of the Ed.
,ors of the New.York Mirror,) which has just
been issued from tho press OF the HarPers, in
their usual neat style The principal poem is one
delivered at Brown University, Rhode Island,
before the Society Of United Brothers, and is one
which we commend TO tho readers of tho Stand
ard for it's simple yet powerful diction--the lofty
tone of its morality and it's internal evidence
thai the writer is big of heart. The verse runs
smoothly aud as if without cfiort, notwithstsnd
ing much thought is compressed into small space
The other poems in the volume have, we be
fieve, all been before published in some OF our
literary gazoties, but they will deserve the local
babtation now given them, and stamp their au.
thor as a man of genius and taste. We make
two extracts from tho principal poem, which we
think will compare with any similar writings by
our young poots, unless we except those Of Pero.
val
What is AMRIrioN, 'Tis n glorious cheat!
Angels of light walk not So dazzlingy
The sapphire walls of Heaven. The unsearch d
NINE
Hath not such gems. Ear,h's constellaied
thrones
Have no, such pomp ofpurple and Of gold.
L. hath no features In It's face is set
. 4 mirror, and ,he gazer sees his own.
II looks a god. but it is like himself!
II hath a niien of empery. aud Smiles
Maiesicalfy sweet but how like him,
II follows moi with fortune. II is seen
Barely or never in the rich mans hall.
II seeks the chamber Of the gifted boy,
And lifts his humble window and comes in.
The narrow walls expand, and spread away
Into kingly palace, and the roof
Lifts 10 the sky, aud unseen fingers work
The ceilings with rich blazonry, and write
His name in burning letters over all,
And even, as he shuts his wildercd eyes,
The phantom comes and lays upon his lids
A spell that murders sleep. and in his ear
Whispers q deaihless word, and on his brain
Breathes a fierce thirst no water will allay.
He is its slave herccforth, His days are spent
In claiming down his heart, and watching where
To rise by bunan weaknesses Ills nights
BRING him no Ee,t in all their blessed hours,
His kindred are forgotten Or es,ranged,
Unhea thful fires beam constant ~ his eye.
HIS lip grows restless, and it's smiles is curld
Half into scorn TN the bright, fiery boy,
That was ~ daiiy blessing but IT, see,
HIS spir, va. - bird like aud so pure,
Is frozen. ~ the very flush on youth,
Into cnid care ifct'ed, hearlless man
And what Is ts reward Al best, a name!
Pra'se -- when the ear has grown Ia dull to hear;
Goid--when he se0ses IL should please are dead;
Wreatbs when the hair they cover has grown
grey:
Fame-when the heart il should have thrll'd is
nunb;
All thing ou, lore when love is all we want,
And .lose 3eL,nd comes Death. and ere we know
That even these unavailing gifts are ours,
lie sends us, s,rpp'd and naked, to tho grave
Oh, ,f there is one law above the rest
Written in wisdom if there is a word
That would trace as with pen Of fire
Upon the unshun temper of a child
IL there is any thing that keeps the mind
Open To angel visits, md repels
The ministry Of il-'tis human lore!
God has made nothing worthy Of contempt.
Tho smallest pebble IN the well Of truth
Has its peculiar meaning, and will stand
When mans hest monuments have passed away.
Tine law OF Heaven is lone, and though its name
Has been usurp'd by passion, and pro!aned
ro It's unholy nsos through al time,
Still, the eternal principle is pure;
Aud in these deep affections that we feel
O,nnipo,ent within us, we but SEQ
The lavish measure in which love is given,
And IN the ycarning tenderness Of child
For every bird that sing above his head.
And every creature feeding on the hills,
Aud every tree, and flower, and running brook,
We see how every thing was made to lore,
And how they err, who, in world like this,
Find any thing In hate but human pride
Oh, if we are not bitterly deceived
If this familiar spirit that communes
With yours this hour--that has the power 10
search
All things but its own compass-is spark
Struck from the burning essence of its God.
lf, as we dream in every radiant star
We see shining gate through which the soul,
In its degrees Of being, will ascend
IL, when these weary organs drop away,
We shall forget their uses, and Commune
With angels and each other, as the stars
Minge their light, in silence and in love-
What is this heshy feltcr Of day
That we should bind il with immortal flowers
How do we even aze upon the sky,
And watch the lark soar up TIL he is lost,
And turn to our poor perishing dreams away,
Without one tear for our imprisoned wings