Phenix gazette. [volume] (Alexandria [D.C.]) 1825-1833, 1831-07-29

business. and may probably keep we employed
with my pea until noon. Fine employment Tor
a poets pen! Here sit, altogether November
sh, a d -melange Of fre;fu'ncss and melancho-
"; not enough of the one TO rouse ne to passion,
nor of the other to repose me in topor; my soul
nouncng and Auttterins round her tenement, like
wild finch, caught amid the horrors OF winter.
and newly thrust into a cage. Well. am per
suaded it was of me the Hebrew sage prophesied,
when he furetold-s And behold. on whatsoever
this man doth set his heart, it shall not prosper!
Pray that wisdom aud bliss be more frequent VI
slters Of +. B."
The following is the melancholy account OF his
last illness. as given in letter by one who wilt
messed it.
81 was struck with his appearance on entering
the room The stamp Of death was impressed
OH his features. He seemed already touching
the brink Of eternity. His first salutaHon was
SWELL. madam, have you any commands Tor ihe
other worldl' replied that II seemed doubt,
fol case which Of US should be there soonest and
that hoped he would yet live to write my cpl
taph. 4 was then ina poor state OF heath;) lie
looked in my face with an air OF great kindness,
and expressed his concern at seeing me look so
I'LL, with his accustomed sensbity. At table he
ate little or nothing. and he complained of hav-
inn entirely lost the tone of his stomach. We
had long and serious conversation about his pre-
sent situation, and the approaching termination
Of all his earthly prospects He spoke OF his
death without any of the ostentat!on Of philoso-
phy, bnt with firInness as well as feeling-as an
event likely to happen very soon, and which gave
him concern chiefly from leaving his four chill.
dren so young and unprotected, and his wife IN
so interesting a situati hin hourly expectation
Of living in Of fifth. He mentioned with seeming
pride and satisfaction, the promising g"nius ot ms
eldest son. and the fiattering marks OF approba'
ton he had received from his teacher. and twelt
particularly on his hopes of that boys future con-
duct and merit. His anxiety for his family seem
ed to hang heavy upon him. and the more perhaps
from the reflection that he had not done them all
the Justice he was so we'll qualified to do.
Passing from this subject, he showed great con-
Germ about the care of his literary lame, and pub
LEGATION of lis posthumous works. He said that
he was well aware that his death would occasion
some noise, and that every scrap of his writings
would be revived against him to the injury OF his
future reputation; that letters AID verses written
with unsuarded and improper freedom, and which
he earnestly wished to have buried in oblivion,
would be handed about byidle vanity or malevo.
ence, when no dread of his resentment would re-
strain them, or prevent the censures OF shrlll.
toneued malice, or the insidious sarsasms OF en-
Wy. from pouring forth all their venom to blast
his fame. He lamented that he had written many
epigrams on persons against whom he entertained
no enmity, and whose characters he should be
sorry to wound; and many indifferent poetic al
pieces. which he feared wor'g row, witt all their
mperfections on their head De thrust upon the
world. On this account he deeply regretted hav.
ing deferred to put his papers in state OF ar
rangement, as he was now quite incapable of the
exerton. The conversation was kept up with
great evenness and animation on his SIDE have
seldom seen his mind greater or more collected.