ARGUMENT. Love of country, the subject proposed-prevalence of it, even in the most unfavourable climates and dangerous circumstances―reasons why the citizens of the United States ought to be particularly influenced by it—patriotism not incompatible with philanthropy-address to the Deity to be enabled to celebrate worthily that love by which the world was made for man— creation-man-his dignity inferred from his strange and complicated, but elevated nature—immortality of the soul—sympathy-affected sensibility false philosophy-existence of a Supreme Being demonstrable from his works-superiority of nature to art, and of man to all the other mundane works of God-from the nobleness of his qualities and conceptions, man ought to despise pseudo-patriotism—conquerors-good sove, reigns—every species of tyrannical government to be avoided— union recommended as necessary to preserve our liberty our peculiar advantages for maintaining our independence execration of discord and ambition-firmness of our government → determination of citizens of all ages and descriptions to repel invasion, or perish in the attempt motives to animate the rising generation deduced from our struggle for independence a review of its origin—the patriotic manner in which the Ameri can people were affected at the commencement of our revolu tion-arrival of the British and foreign troops-their chiefs preparations to resist the foe-eulogium of the principal offi, cers of the American army-happy termination of the war the revision of these interesting scenes excites an ardent desire in the author to revisit his native country indescribable sensations produced by love of country-concluding wish, A POEM ON THE LOVE OF COUNTRY. TO INDEPENDENCE consecrate, this day Hail sacred Love of Country! mystic tie! That binds us to our native soil and sky! Indissolubly binds through each extreme Of noxious climes. The native braves the beam · Where darts the crimson sun, with downward ray, O'er tropic isles, insufferable day. 10 Beneath cold Zembla's clouds, the last of men Six wintry months, while hail and thunder pour While sweeping tempests ride night's raven wings, 15 Nor where dire earthquakes sleep by Lisbon's rock, Thy sons, oh Tagus! who once felt the shock, 20 * Although the author had his residence for several years in Lisbon, it was on that high part of the city called Buenos Ayres, where no damage has ever been done by earthquakes. Near the river Tagus, the buildings which have more than once been destroyed, may probably bereafter experience a similar fate. Will ye in love of country be surpast? 25 30 Still Love of Country, on no narrow plan, Exists consistent with the love of man. In little circles love begins, not ends, 35 With parents, brothers, kindred, neighbours, friends: As wave on wave, on circles circles press, Our nation next we love, nor nature less: Though still Columbia-best of parent names!- Illume my subject! tune my voice to sing! 40 45 50 Through realms of darkness, dreary, unenjoy'd, 55 60 Celestial beings view'd with vast delight, For whom was earth's stupendous fabric made? 65 70 The body gross, but animated clay With parts so pure, so gross-enigma strange! Alive, though dead-the same, though seen to change 'Twas God's last work that fir'd angelic quires, 75 Gave worlds to space and themes to heav'nly lyres. What though to death a prey, this earthy crust Thou child of heav'n and earth! a stream divine 80 85 90 95 The zeal that aims humanity to bless, Oh, let me feel, and, what I feel, express! 100 With feelings not less strong than others born, Affected sensibility I scorn. Nor finds my breast benevolence or joy, By generalising feeling, to destroy. S I hate that new philosophy's strange plan, 105 That teaches love for all things more than man; 110 Then let my breast more pure sensations prove, Say, live there mortals form'd with organs such, O'er all heav'n's other works of man to sing. Thy varied voice in every breeze I hear, Delightful nature! mingling in my ear. 115 120 125 130 135 140 Though sweet the sound of zephyr's whispering breath, Though sweet the babbling brook, the patt'ring show'r, |