he was not at that time well qualified, being too apt to jest, and too fond of conversation. Whatever the cause may have been, they soon disagreed. Judges of Appeal arrived at Hispaniola, and the malcontents in Cubathrew out secretly their complaints against the govenor. There was no other means of crossing over to present them than in an open canoe, and Cortes undertook this desperate service. Just as he was about to embark be was seized and the papers found upon him. Velazquez at first was about to hang him; but upon intercession, contented himself with putting him in irons, and embarking him on board ship to send him to Hispaniola. He contrived to rid himself of his fetters, and while the crew were asleep, got overboard, and trusted himself upon a log of wood, for he could not swim; it was ebb tide,and he was carried a league out from the ship; the flow drove him upon shore, but he was so exhausted that he was on the point of letting loose his hold and resigning himself to his fate. It was not yet day; he hid himself, knowing search would be made for him as soon as he was missed on board; and when the church doors were opened he took sanctuary. Near this church there dwelt one Juan Xuares, who had a handsome sister of excellent character. Cortes liked her, and found means to let her know it. Whoever has seen Vertue's print of Cortes, from Titian's picture, will know that of all men he must have been one of the most beautiful. One day he was slipping out of the church to visit her, an Alguazil watched him, slipt in at another door, came out behind, and carried bim to prison. Velasquez was about to proceed against him with extreme rigour, but this governor was of a generous nature, and was persuaded to forgive him; Cortes married the girl, and said he was as well contented with her as if she had been the daughter of a dutchess. The Alguazil, Juan Escudero, who had entrapped him, was one of the conspirators whom he afterwards hung in New-Spain.— Herrera. Of these singular facts in the his. tory of so extraordinary a man, no mention is made by Robertson. What that author has said of Antonia de Solis may be applied to himself: "I know no author in any language whose literary fame has risen so far beyond his real merit:" Polar Expedition.-On Thursday se'nnight, Mr. Fisher, an officer belonging to the Dorothea,capt. Buchan, arrived at the admiralty with despatches, announcing the return of that ship and her consort, the Trent sloop, from the Arctic seas. It appears that the highest latitude the ships ever attained was about 80. 30 longitude 12 east:-They attempted proceeding to the westward, but as, in the case of captain Phipps, in the Race-horse, in 1773, they found an impenetrable barrier of ice. The ships proceeded nearly over the same space as captain Phipps did and met with similar impediments as experienced by that officer. The Dorothea and the Trent are on their way to Deptford. They arrived on Thursday se'nnight in Scarborough roads. We are sorry to learn that one of the ships has sustained considerable damage, having been caught between two floating ice-bergs, the collision of which was so great, that she was lifted completely out of the water. Her irons were all forced, and her ribs broken, and we understand it has been with great difficulty she has been able to make port These are the ships which were equipped with a view to their reaching the Pole, and entering the Pacific Ocean by Behring's Straits. This is, we believe, the 17th or 18th failure to accomplish the daring project of crossing the Polar regions. FOR THE PORT FOLIO. On the death of an interesting and intelligent young lady, who fell a victim to the fatigues of a journey to the western country. 'Tis done! the dreadful hour is past, And ling'ring hope at length has fled; Where glowing Health's fond roses bloom'd, Far from thy weeping friends, sweet maid, Yes, distant far from thy lov'd home, There, 'mid a trackless forest drear, The last sad rites were briefly paid; But, though amid the woodland's gloom Thy name, sweet maid, shall never die. For memory shall thy image trace, And friendship all thy worth reeal, And love shall shield each early grace, And kindred genius weep thy fall. Nor shall thy rural tomb remain Unrev'renc'd in the desert wild,Nor rude, nor wand'ring foot profane The sod that wraps Affection's child. But there some kindred heart shall raise And, journeying through the desart wild, And, sorrowing, drop the tear to thee. And oft, as chance his footsteps lead, Then, musing, take their lonely way. And, could Compassion's gentle sway SONG. Laura, thy sighs must now no more W. Yet while thy bosom heaves that sigh, Thee would I bid to check those sighs, I cannot aid thy breaking heart, And still on those looks, though the morning is here, Soft tinges of lingering sadness appear; For the tale of thy heart is too heavy with truth, -Gone, gone, are the hours of enchantment and youth; They smil'd as they passed-but so gayly they flew; That we heard them not bid us for ever adieu. Yet say do not others advancing appear! Oh! turn and behold them, more kind, more sincere, More gentle are these, and though modest their mien, Though near them no frolics, no raptures are Yet come, ye cold glooms, and ye clouds gather round, My bosom a refuge, a shelter has found, To thee my heart turns in all changes unmoved, And when dying shall bless thee-as living it loved! TO CORDELIA. "The theme though humble, yet august, and proud "The occasion-for the fair commands the song." LADY, when last in circle gay, COWPER. We met to speed the wing of time; You bade me raise the simple lay, And tune my voice to dulcet rhyme. And could I then refuse to sing. When you with sense and taste refin'd, Requir'd from Music's trembling string, The rapture of the minstrel's mind? Ah! yes, for tho' my hands have stray'd O'er magic chords that thrill'd the soul; And tho' my voice its feeble aid, Essay'd the passions to control, Yet then no chords my hands could move- For, Lady, I have bade farewell, I love to chaunt in solemn hour, The hallow'd strains that Israel sung; And feel the sweet harmonic power, That trembl'd from the Psalmist's tongue. The balls, to which, so gay we hasted, The circling scenes of fashions glare, Leave thee perhaps, with spirits wasted, The restless child of spleen and care. Some pleasure fails thee for to morrow; Or pleasure's self no more can please; -Midst rival winds, 'mid struggling trial And patience, temper, wisdom gain; Oh! no, from me no haughty railings, Round Cupid's eyes a fillet drew, The Banks; or Western Melodies. No. 3. "Oh! think not my spirits are always as light.” Oh think not that cash will be always as scarce, And as hard to be got as it seems to be now; Nor expect that this laughable locking up farce, Will continue much longer to sadden your brow. No! specie is always a moveable treasure, That seldom the vaults of a bank can retain; And the teller who fingers the silver with plea sure, Is always the first to return it again! But send round the bowl, and be happy the while, May we never meet worse in our pilgrimage here Than the frown that bank paper can gild with a smile, Orthe uncharter'd note that can banish a tear! The gloom of our woods would be dark, heav'n knows, If there was not a bank here and there to be spied, And I care not how soon I may sink to repose, When I find oue erected on every hill side. But they who have lov'd them the fondest, the purest, Too often, alas! are a little derang'd And the man who has fancied their paper secu. rest, Is happy indeed when he gets it exchang'd; But send round the bowl-while a Canton re mains, Or a Union-town bank bill, this prayer shall be mine; That the sun-shine of gold they may see once again And the moon-light of silver console their decline. 0. LITERARY INTELLIGENCE. A manuscript of about fifty pages, in the hand writing of Tasso, was lately purchased in Paris for the grand duke of Tuscany, for 4000 francs. It is remarked, that from the number of erasures, it is clear that this great Epic Poet was very familiar with the art of blotting. Anacreon Moore.-A late London paper says, a seventh volume of Irish Melodies has just come forth. The airs are all genuine Irish, and possess the sweetness and originality which distinguish the former volumes, and they have received from sir John Stevenson the addition of beautiful accompaniments. Of the verses it is enough to say that they come from the pen of Thomas Moore, Esq. OBITUARY-GENERAL PRESLEY NEVILLE. DIED, at his residence, near the town of Neville, in the state of Ohio, General PRESLEY NEVILLE, in the 63d year of his age. Death has laid his icy hand on one more veteran of the revolution, but although among his victims there have been some whose names were more familiar to the voice of fame, a better or a braver man has not yet fallen, than the object of this notice. General Neville was a native of Virginia. After graduating at the University of Pennsylvania, with distinguished reputation for classical attainments, he entered the army in the year 1775, at the age of nineteen, as an ensign in a company commanded by his father, the late general John Neville. He quickly rose to the rank of captain, and, as such, became aid-de-camp to the marquis de la Fayette, in which capacity he served several campaigns. Similarity of feeling and of manners, created an ardent friendship between these accomplished, and, at that time, young officers, which has continued uninterrupted ever since, and which retained major Neville in the family of the marquis for three years. At the expiration of that period he volunteered, with his father, to join the southern army, and received the brevet of lieutenant colonel. He was made prisoner at the surrender of Charleston, returned thence to Virginia on parole, and was not exchanged until the end of the war. General Neville was in the battles of Princeton, Trenton, Germantown, Brandywine, and Monmouth; at the last of which he had a horse killed under him. At the close of the revolution he married the eldest daughter of general Daniel Morgan, and emigrated to a property which he held near Pittsburg, at that time in Virginia. In 1792 he removed to Pittsburg, where he continued until the year 1816. He then changed his residence to Ohio. He was always honoured with the friendship of general Washington, and until within a few years, he held many of the most confidential offices, under the general and state governments. Governor Snyder was the first to inflict a wound on the peace and the pride of this distinguished citizen and meritorious soldier in the evening of his days, by removing him from the lucrative office of prothonotary of Allegany county; we impeach not his motive, but we hope that it was such as to justify him at a future day. It falls to the lot of but few men, to enjoy so great a degree of personal popularity, as has attended the subject of this notice, through a life of many years and much vicissitude. Until he had passed the meridian of life, he was favoured by Providence with the possession of an ample fortune, which enabled him to indulge to excess a benevolence as warm and as expansive as ever glowed in a mortal breast. If it had a fault, it was that it was too lavish for prudence, and too indiscriminate for justice; but it was the offspring of a heart too truly kind to allow prudential maxims to mingle in its counsels, and too honourable to doubt the rectitude of its ardent impulses. Like most generous men he suffered dearly for his liberality, but he repined not at the dispensations of Providence, nor repented of those acts which he performed with pleasure and reflected on with pride. He was admired by his equals, respected by his inferiors, and loved by all who knew him; the oppressed clung to him for support, and the prayers of the needy ascended to heaven in his favour. In general Neville, we had a brilliant example of the character which we may emphatically term that of a well bred gentleman. The distinguishing features of his character were a courteous hospitality, and a polished urbanity of manners. He carried into private life that nice sense of honour which so peculiarly belongs to the soldier, and which, though the native growth of his own bosom, was polished and refined in the camp. His affections were warm, and his philanthropy pervaded the whole tenor of his thoughts and actions. As a husband he was delicate and affectionate, as a father warm and indulgent, and as a man mild but firm. The rule of his conduct towards society was to do nothing which a gentleman should be ashamed of, and he cared but little what name the world might put upon his actions, if he gained the approbation of his own heart, without trespassing upon the feelings of others. Yet so nice was his sense of the delicacy which ought to be observed towards the opinion of the world, as well as the feelings of individuals, that it would have given him serious pain to reflect for a moment that he had offended against the one or the other in the most minute particular. He breathed his last on the banks of Ohio, not surrounded by all the comforts of life, for this would have been too great a happiness for an old soldier; but he drew his last sigh surrounded by his children, on the soil that was granted to him for his revolutionary services. At the present day the remembrance of those services are but of little value, except as a theme of pride to his numerous descendants, but the future historian will rank him among those heroes to whom his country owes her independence. |