dering or running on shore; and, in short, are only fit for smooth water. Though intended for the defence of the maritime cities, yet the cities are obliged to defend them; and they require as much nursing as so many rickety little bantlings. They are, however, the darling pets of the grand bashaw, being the children of his dotage, and, perhaps, from their diminutive size and palpable weakness, are called the "infant navy of America. The art that brought them into existence was almost deified by the majority of the people as a grand stroke of economy.—By the beard of Mahomet, but this word is truly inexplicable! To this economic body, therefore, was I advised to address my petition, and humbly to pray, that the august assembly of sages would, in the plenitude of their wisdom and the magnitude of their powers, munificently bestow on an unfortunate captive a pair of cotton breeches! "Head of the immortal Amrou," cried I, "but this would be presumptuous to a degree !—What! after these worthies have thought proper to leave their country naked and defenceless, and exposed to all the political storms that rattle without, can I expect that they will lend a helping hand to comfort the extremities of a solitary captive?" My exclamation was only answered by a smile, and I was consoled by the assurance, that so far from being neglected, it was every way probable my breeches might occupy a whole session of the divan, and set several of the longest heads together by the ears. Flattering as was the idea of a whole nation being agitated about my breeches, yet I own I was somewhat dismayed at the idea of remaining in querpuo, until all the national gray-beards should have made a speech on the occasion, and given their consent to the measure. The embarrassment and distress of mind which I experienced were visible in my countenance; and my guard, who is a man of infinite good nature, immediately suggested, as a more expeditious plan of supplying my wants, a benefit at the theatre. Though profoundly ignorant of his meaning, I agreed to his proposition, the result of which I shall disclose to thee in another letter. Fare-thee-well, dear Assem; in thy pious prayers to our great prophet, never forget to solicit thy friend's return; and when thou numberest up the many blessings bestowed on thee by all-bountiful Allah, pour forth thy gratitude that he has cast thy nativity in a land where there is no assembly of legislative chatterers; no great bashaw who bestrides a gun-boat for a hobby-horse; where the word economy is unknown; and where an unfortunate captive is not obliged to call upon the whole nation to cut him out a pair of breeches. Ever thine, MUSTAPHA. POETRY. (From Salmagundi.) THOUGH enter'd on that sober age, And, like that pilgrim who retreats Is ravaged by a foreign foe, And while he heaves the anguish'd sigh, 'Twas joy we looked for in my prime, Which scares at once all feeling joys, Oh! once again those days recall, When heart met heart in fashion's hall; When every honest guest would flock To add his pleasure to the stock, More fond his transports to express Than show the tinsel of his dress! These were the times that clasp'd the soul In gentle friendship's soft controul; Our fair ones, unprofaned by art, Content to gain an honest heart; No train of sighing swains desired, How oft I breathe the inward sigh, Where all the flowers of gay delight With which youth decks its prospects bright, Thus lately in my careless mood, Like those fair forms that often beam Its sacred halo round each head! They seem'd, just entering hand in hand, To cautious tread this fairy land; To take a timid hasty view, Enchanted with a scene so new. The modest blush, untaught by art, Bespoke their purity of heart; And every timorous act unfurl'd Two souls unspotted by the world. Oh, how these strangers joy'd my sight, And thrill'd my bosom with delight! They brought the visions of my youth Back to my soul in all their truth; Recall'd fair spirits into day, That Time's rough hand had swept away. Will bless, at rare and distant whiles, Oh! my romance of youth is pastDear airy dreams, too bright to last. Yet when such forms as these appear, I feel your soft remembrance here; For oh! the simple poet's heart, On which fond love once play'd its part, Still feels the soft pulsations beat, As loth to quit their former seat; Just like the heart's melodious wire, Swept by a bard with heavenly fireThough ceas'd the loudly swelling strain, Yet sweet vibrations long remain. |