thello, he has been thus causelessly advanced to my prejudice and his own disgrace. He will soon be damned in a fair wife; and in consequence of that enchanting power, which a beautiful bride exercises over a doting husband he will incontinently prefer the couch to the camp; and instead of mounting fiery barbs
To fright the souls of fearful adversaries,
He capers nimbly in his lady's chamber,
To the lascivious pleasing of her lute.
Therefore you have a new proof, Roderigo, both from my description of the past and my well-grounded anticipation of the future, how totally unfit this upstart Cassio is for the place of second in command to Othello; a place which from my valour and long services, and by all the titles of seniority and preferment ought surely to have been mine.
DR. JOHNSON's remarks affixed to each play of Shakspeare are read and remembered; but many of his foot-notes are lost amid the rubbish of succeeding commentators. The following, expressed in most beautiful language, is very ingenious and happy. The father of Juliet is making preparations for a splendid supper and masquerade to which all the beauties of Verona are invited by their munificent entertainer, who thus warns Paris of the pleasure he is about to enjoy in the society of these lovely ladies:
Such comfort as do lusty young men feel
When well apparel'd April on the heel
Of limping Winter treads, even such delight
Among fresh female buds shall you this night
Inherit at my house, &c.
To say, and to say in pompous words, that a young man shall feel as much in an assembly of beauties, as young men feel in the month of April, is surely to waste sound upon a very poor sentiment. I read
Such comfort as do lusty yeoman feel.
You shall feel from the sight and conversation of those ladies such hopes of happiness and such pleasure as the farmer receives from the Spring, when the plenty of the year begins, and the prospect of the harvest fills him with rapture.
A comment of such a character is almost as splendid as the text itself. The word, which the learned Doctor has substituted, is preferable to the phrase of Shakspeare; but, in all the copies to which we have access, the poet's reading remains undisturbed.
ORIGINAL POETRY FOR THE PORT FOLIO.
Descriptive of a Pedestrian Journey to the Falls of Niagara,
In the Autumn of 1803.
With a plate representing an interesting scene on the shores of the Susquehanna,
By the Author of American Ornithology.
(Continued from page 77.)
ONCE more the dawn arous'd us to the road,
Our fare discharg'd, we left this lone abode,
And down, through deepening swamps, pursued our way,
Where pine and hemlocks quite shut out the day;
Majestic solitudes! all dead and deep!
The green moss matted o'er each mouldering heap;
On every side with watchful looks we spy,
Each rustling leaf attracts our eager eye;
Sudden the whirring tribe before us rise!
The woods resound-the fluttering partridge* dies;
Light floating feathers hover on the gale,
And the blue smoke rolls slowly through the vale.
Again, slow stealing o'er the shaded road,
Trailing their broad barr'd tails, two pheasants† strode,
The levell'd tube its fiery thunders pour'd,
And deep around the hollow forest roar'd;
Low in the dust the mangled victims lie,
And conscious triumph fills each traveller's
Now thickening rains begin to cloud the air,
Our guns we muffle up-our only care;
Darker and heavier now the tempest lower'd,
And on the rattling leaves incessant pour'd;
The groaning trees in hollow murmurs wav'd;
And wild around the rising tempest rav'd.
Below dark, dropping pines we onward tread,
Where Bear Creek grumbles down his gloomy bed,
• This is the tetrao virginianus of Linnæus. In the States of New England it is called the quail.
+ The bird here called a pheasant is the ruffed grous (tetrao umbellus) of European naturalists. In New-England it is called the partridge.
Through darksome gulfs, where bats forever skim,
The haunts of howling wolves and panthers grim.
At length two hovels through the pines appear,
And from the pelting storm we shelter here.
Two lank, lean dogs pace o'er the loosened floor;
A pouch and rifle hung behind the door;
Shrill through the logs the whistling tempest beats,
And the rough woodsman welcomes us to seats.
Before the blazing pile we smoking stand,
Our musquets glittering in the hunter's hand;
Now pois'd, now levell'd to his curious eye;
Then in the chimney corner set to dry.
Our clear, green powder-flasks were next admired;
Our powder tasted, handled, rubbed, and fir'd;
Touch'd by the spark, lo! sudden blazes soar,
And leave the paper spotless as before.
From foaming Brandywine's rough shores it came,
To sportsmen dear its merits and its name;
Dupont's best Eagle, matchless for its power,
Strong, swift, and fatal as the bird it bore.
Like Jove's dread thunderbolts it with us went,
To pour destruction wheresoever sent.
These, as they glisten'd careless by our side,
With many a wishful look the woodsman ey❜d.
Thus Bears on beech-nuts, hungry steeds on maize,
Or cats on mice, or hawks on squirrels gaze.
His proffer'd skins of all the forest train,
His looks, and empty horn, implored in vain;
Till to a family's wants we freely gave
What cold, hard-hearted Prudence bade us save.
And now, this treasure on our host bestow'd
His sun-burn'd visage at the present glow'd;
New-moulded bullets quickly he prepar❜d;
Survey'd the glistening grain with fix'd regard
Then charg❜d his rifle with the precious store,
And threw the horn his brawny shoulders o'er,
Secured his punk, his matches, flint, and steel,
The dogs in transport barking at his heel;
Then, in his blanket, bade his wife good-bye,
For three long nights in dreary woods to lie.
A celebrated manufacturer of gun-powder, on the Brandywine, whose packages are usually impressed with the figure of an eagle.
Our morsel ended, through the pouring rain,
O'er barren mountains we proceed again;
And now Wiomi opened on our view,
And, far beyond, the Alleghany blue,
Immensely stretch'd; upon the plain below
The painted roofs with gaudy colours glow,
And Susquehanna's glittering stream is seen
Winding in stately pomp through valleys green.
Hail, charming river! pure transparent flood!
Unstain'd by noxious swamps or choaking mud;
Thundering through broken rocks in whirling foam;
Or pleas'd o'er beds of glittering sand to roam ;
Green be thy banks, sweet forest-wandering stream!
Still may thy waves with finny treasures teem;
The silvery shad and salmon crowd thy shores,
Thy tall woods echoing to the sounding oars;
On thy swoln bosom floating piles appear,
Fill'd with the harvests of our rich frontier:
Thy pine-brown'd cliffs, thy deep romantic vales,
Where wolves now wander, and the panther wails,
Where, at long intervals, the hut forlorn
Peeps from the verdure of embowering corn,
In future times (nor distant far the day)
Shall glow with crowded towns and villas gay
Unnumber'd keels thy deepen'd course divide;
And airy arches pompously bestride;
The domes of Science and Religion rise,
And millions swarm where now a forest lies.
Now up green banks, through level fields of grass,
With heavy hearts the fatal spot we pass
Where Indian rage prevailed, by murder fir'd,
And warriors brave by savage hands expir'd';
Where bloody Butler's iron-hearted crew
Doom'd to the flames the weak submitting few ;
While screams of horror pierc'd the midnight wood,
And the dire axe drank deep of human blood.*
*The massacre here alluded to, took place after the battle of 3d July 1778, which was fought near this spot. The small body of American troops were commanded by that brave, humane, and intelligent officer, colonel Butler; the tories and savages were headed by another colonel Butler, of a very different description. Were I disposed to harrow up the feelings of the reader, I
Obscur'd with mud, and drench'd with soaking rain,
Through pools of splashing mire we drove amain;
Night darkening round us; when, in lucky hour,
Led by its light we reach'd a cottage door :
There welcom'd in we bless'd our happy lot,
And all the drudgery of the day forgot.
A noble fire its blazing front display'd,
Clean shelves of pewter dazzling round array'd,
Where rows of ruddy apples, rang'd with care,
With grateful fragrance fill'd the balmy air;
Our bard (chief orator in times like these),
Though frank, yet diffident, and fond to please,
In broken German jok'd with all around,
Told who we were, from whence, and whither bound;
The cottage group a ready opening made,
And "welcome friends," the little Dutchman said.
Well pleas'd our guns and knapsacks we resign'd,
Th' adjoining pump, or running stream to find,
There wash'd our boots, and, entering, took our seat,
Stript to the trowsers in the glowing heat.
The mindful matron spread her table near,
Smoking with meat, and fill'd with plenteous cheer;
And supper o'er, brought forth, and handed round,
A massy bowl with mellow apples crown'd;
For all our wants a mother's care express'd,
And press'd us oft, and pick'd us out the best,
But Duncan smil'd, and slyly seemed to seek
More tempting fruit in Susan's glowing cheek,
Where such sweet innocence and meekness lay
As fairly stole our pilot's heart away.
He tried each art the evening to prolong,
And cheer'd the passing moments with a song,
So sadly tender, with such feeling rais'd,
That all, but Susan, with profusion prais'd;
She from his glance oft turned her glistening eye,
And paid in tears and many a stifled sigh.
Thus pass'd the evening charmingly away,
Each pleased and pleasing, innocent and gay,
Till early bed-time summon'd us to part,
'And Susan's glances spoke her captive heart.
might here enlarge on the particulars of this horrid affair; but I choose to decline it. Those who wish to see a detail of the whole, are referred to the Philadelphia Universal Magazine for March 20, 1797, p. 390.
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