And now our good patrons pray melt into pity
Nor expect at our hands a more dolorous ditty;
For our muse, all exhausted, declares on her honor
We ought not in conscience ask any more from her;
She blows too her fingers, and pleads the cold weather,
And vows her ideas are frozen together.
But still we believe not a syllable true
But that the fly baggage has New-Year in view;
And means with her sisters, those tight pretty lasses,
To romp on the top of the airy parnassus;
Or else with Apollo, the graces, and Venus,
Sly Cupid, fierce Mars, and the jolly Silenus,
To tipple stew'd Quaker at Bacchus's hall,
And there in fandango out caper us all. ---

To the regions of Pluto, and banks of the Styx,
Last night took its flight Eighteen hundred and Six,
And Time, with his sceptre, this morning has driven,
Its place to supply, Eighteen Hundred and Seven!
And thus while the seasons and months roll away,
And empires and kingdoms increase and decay,
Pray what of the world's passing scenes could you guess,
Were it not for the sheets which we send from our press?
To speak of events in the year that's past o'er,
Would be to repeat what we've told you before;
For in our gazette, I presume you'll remember,
From January first, to the last of December,
We gave you the news from the world's region vast,
And many fine stories we likewise rehers'd;
We informed you what tricks mister Bonaparte play'd,
What monarchs, and kingdoms, and empires, he made; 
How Russia, and Austria, and Sweden, and Spain,
At loggerheads gambled, while France won the game,
While Prussia, quite late, to the hazzard-board jogg'd-
The bull-dogs of England, alone, can withstand,
This giant who drives all before him by land,
If they did not check, and restrain his career,
'Tis a hundred to one but he'd be over here.
These things we related, and much more beside,
Which pass'd in the old world, beyond the blue tide:
Of events nearer homeward 'tis needless to tell,
What happen'd I'm conscious you know very well;
Our country still blest with mild peace and high health,
Increasing in fame, population and wealth;
And, but for a Faction to plague and to vex us,
No troubles of state should we have to perplex us.
What scenes will unfold in the course of this year,
My art cannot tell you exactly, I fear:
But since in prediction we Carriers must deal,
I'll try my hand too-- for its spirit I feel.
And first, for those bullies o'er yonder salt spray,
Who make it their trade to fight, plunder, and slay, 
And slaughter the nations, your prophet supposes,
They'll either make peace, or have more bloody noses!
Then in our own country (the stars so inform me)
Some new things will happen, of which I must warn ye;
The man who is strongest will live 'till -- he dies!
Our Congress will sit 'till -- they're ready to rise!
John Bull will resort where roast beef and rich sauce is;
The Yankee will feast on fat pork and molasses!
The Dutchman on buttermalk, mix'd wid supparsen!
And Teague on poraturs, with whiskey -- Och grahn!
Our statesmen seek salaries! Lawyers for fees!
And physicians make bills for you -- just as they please!
And even in Poughkeepsie, strange things you may see,
A few I'll foretell, but not what they'll all be:
Old maids will determine to lead single lives!
And bachelors not to be hamper'd with wives!
Our country folks smoke with their pipes upside down,
As pigs, geese, and turkies, they cry round the town!
Our merchants sell cheap if you'll bring the l'argeat!
And our taverns deal nectar, boys, all the day long!
But now, as I've got near the end of my tether,
In prating of this, and of that, and of t'other,
And having now clos'd my prophetic oration,
It only remains that I make application;
Which briefly I'll do, and then quick disappear,
If you'll help me to taste of the holyday cheer; 
For Carriers, whatever your honors may think
Cannot long bring you news without victuals and drink.
You know the Barometer, many long days,
Has try'd to amuse you in various ways,
With prose entertained you, and sooth'd you in rhyme,
So if you a'n't suited, the fault isn't mine:
It now has chang'd owners, (and that's something new,)
But we'll make no fine promises what we will do;
For in promises, oft, disappointments are plac'd,
And the proof of the pudding is found in the taste:
But this we'll engage, and 'tis all you can ask,
To please you shall be our most arduous task,
While true to our country, the truth we regard,
And leave you to judge how our toils to reward.
A Happy New Year, I have only to say,
And bid you adieu till the next comes in play,
While here, as a signal, I place the word FEE,
A hint that's sufficient for you and for me.

Young Misses have their Valentine,
On which to speak as well as shine:
Grave Matrons, on their Lady day,
Hold ev'ry where unbridled sway;
And junior Typos have their hour,
Of fuss, parade and puny pow'r.
Not loveliest morn of lovely June,
With all its music and perfume,
Can view with New-Year's chearful gleam,
Tho' shorn the meads, and froze the stream.
Adieu this day, to groaning screws,
Black balls, cold types and thrice told news.
Melodious sounds invite me here,
And dear cockanie tempts me there;
That basket bursts with luscious pies
And there, the golden pippin lies:
The cider mantles in the glass,
And brisk the cups of porter pass.
He must [xx], or less,
That can unmoved see all this:
I too will join the throng and taste,
--But--check this wild ungovern'd hast[e];
Regardless both of cake and beauty,
Bow to your PATRONS as in duty.
I stand repov'd -- to you, and you,
I tender ev'ry homage due.
Sages and Matrons -- live to see,
Your children's children climb the knee --
Your sons, may wealth and honors grace,
And beauty bloom in each Girl's face.
Ye hapless swains who lovely roam
And never enter'd Hymen's dome,
Before this new-born year is o'er
Be wise, and wed, and err no more.
And ye fair maidens, lovely train!
Bloom not like flow'rs on rocks, in vain;
To hymen's sacred bowers press
And being blessed, doubly bless.
My greetings well over -- let's light our cigars
And talk of Europa, its squabbles and wars.
In the front rank of carnage conspicuous is seen
That scourge of mankind the accurst Napoleon;
Like a comet erratic he shines but to burn,
From the glare of his splendour palid virtue must turn;
The nations around him submissively bend,
Look pale at his frown and each mandate attend.
Great Britain alone has the javelin hurl'd,
Stop't the torrent of death, and kep't Hope in the world;
May her arm energetic, grow stronger and stronger,
Till the Demon of Corsica rages no longer.
Deceived, betrayed, and much injur'd Spain
Resisted alas ! but resisted in vain :
The struggle ne'er over, while panting for breath,
She frowns on her murderer even in death.
The Portuguese cup of distress overflows!
Expiring she lies in the midst of her foes:
One friend for a moment, averts the dread blow,
And sheds a kind tear at her sad overthrow.
Batavis is lost and her name is no more;
Her page from the volume of nations is tore:
Her Tromps and her Evertsons triumph'd in vain,
For gone is the nations, its virtues and fame.
The Germanic Eagle no longer will soar,
He grovels in dust, to be heard of no more.
The sceptre of Vasa a Gallic hand grasps,
And old Swedish glory in agony gasps.
E'en the monarch of Russia enthroned on snow
Sets the deluge advance with an aspect of woe.
And hopes by submission to ward off the blow.
His meanness a few coward moments may gain,
But sooner or later his doom is a chain.
The Turk with his turban, his sofa and pipe,
For his last degradation already is ripe;
Like the Greek he once vanquish'd, he sinks in disgrace,
Forgot his past valor his name and his place.
My long tale of mischiefs is now nearly o'er;
I'll only just mention one tragedy more:
--This greatest of Merces, this Chief of renown,
Who sets monarchs up and who pulls monarchs down,
Can boast at the close of a prodigy life,
That he grappled in battle and conquer'd -- HIS WIFE.
My country kind patrons, my country's a theme,
On which I can prattle, and scribble, and dream,
In rapture forever -- Hail land of my birth!
The far happiest portion of this lovely earth;
A grace and a majesty marks every feature
And stamps Thee the fav'rite and darling of nature.
No despot of Europe shall mar thy fair face,
Thy heroes can never endure the disgrace;
Those heroes who once chas'd thy foes to the main,
Will combat and conquer again and again.
Thy statesmen mayhap, like the rest of mankind,
May now and then prove to thy interest blind;
But the mass of thy children are fill'd with a spirit
That will always secure the fair soil they inherit.
Sounds of music strike my ear!
There, my joyous Chums appear,
Beck'ning me to come away
Joining in their festive play.
Happy boys -- the dance is in it
If you cannot wait one minute,
See my patron with good nature,
Smiling on my New-Year's paper
See his hand, already FUMBLING!
Soon the shiners will be TUMBLING.
Bless your honour -- Now my hearties,
I'll be one in all your parties.
LONG LIVE THE REPUBLIC!!! 

REPLETE with much event - important - vast!
The year fourteen sinks down to rest at last.
The fierce Napoleon once more took the field,
Too weak to conquer and too proud to yield-
On the Germanic confine, grim he stood,
And snuff'd with horrid smile the scent of blood.
The northern hosts with love of Freedom warm,
Beheld unmov'd the meditated storm;
The hero Alexander led the train,
And Kings and armies fill'd th' extended plain.
At Leipsic's walls the murderous strife began;
Chief fac'd to Chief, and Man oppos'd to Man:
Their streams of flame a thousand cannons pour,
Till Heaven's vast concave echoed the uproar;
Death stalk'd in every shape - at last night came,
And drove to rest the sanguinary train.
But with the rising day uprose the strife,
With a tremendous waste of human life,
Till faint at last, the Gallic bands gave way
And gave their foes the triumph and the day-
The flying crowd nor stop'd, nor turn'd aside,
Till France receiv'd in tears the rushing tide.
Elate with conquest, close pursu'd the foe,
And follow'd up the great decisive blow,
Till Paris open'd wide her brazen gate,
Receiv'd her conquerors and seal'd her fate.
The Corsican, depressed and forlorn
At once of human kind the scourge and scorn,
To Elba's isle was doomed to depart,
With that worst fiend, his own malignant heart.
Contrasted with this monster in disgrace,
Behold the man, the glory of our race;
Imperial Alexander! first of men!
Long in our hearts and o'er thy Russia reign.
My home-sick muse now cleaves the azure sky
Till fair Columbia rises to her eye:
Delightful region! There thy lakes expand,
And here thy noble rivers bless the land:
Thy lofty pine majestic waves its head,
And thy rich plains immeasurably spread;
Thy thonged cities raise their gilded domes,
Of arts and industry the happy homes;
While far and wide, the hardy rural swains
Till their own soil and bless the fruitful plains.
A momentary cloud our sky o'erspreads,
Which holds a gloomy aspect o'er our heads;
But Heav'n in mercy soon will drive away
The gloom and cloud and once more give the day.
Of all the ills with which our race is curs'd,
War is the most terrific - war the first -
Fell demon hie thee hence! down, down to dwell
In thy own hideous native region - Hell.
The year expir'd a chequer'd scene has shown;
Here Britons triumph'd - There were overthrown.
At Washington a Ross in bold array
Swep't all before him in his hostile way;
His lifted torch infuriate, there he tost,
Till ev'ry palace lay in ruin lost.
Columbia's chief base flying, turn'd his eyes,
And saw th' expiring smoke of his late domes arise.
But soon the exulting Briton low must lie,
Patapsco saw him fall, and saw his followers fly.
Far to the north McDonnough's squadron lay
To meet a Downie and dispute the day;
Columbia's Eagle hover'd o'er her star,
And Britain's genius fled in black despair.
There too an English army trembling stood,
And saw the dire disaster on the flood;
But stood not long - Confusion and dismay
Mark'd every foot of their retiring way.
The van was led by pale Provost and Fear,
While boasting Brisbane goaded on the rear.
Where roaring Niagara's foam ascends,
And with the clouds its snowy vapour blends;
A Brown and Drummond long dispute the field,
Nor this can conquer, nor the other yield;
Alternate fortune hovers o'er the strife,
And all the glory lies in waste of life.
But still the Ocean is the happy field,
Which for our brows unfading laurels yield;
Thro' its green wave our keeps triumphant plow,
And to each foe indignant turn the prow.
Immortal fame our naval heroes won,
Our occidental star outshines the orient sun.
Descend celestial nymph, descend sweet peace,
And bid the clangor of contention cease!
Far, far in chaos let the sword be hurl'd,
And dash fierce Ruin's ploughshare from the world.
HONOR'D patrons here I stand,
With this morsel in my hand!
Lowly bending I present it,
Honor'd patrons don't resent it.
I'm no candidate for fame,
On the wide poetic plain;
Simple facts I've simply stated,
As by Journalists related:
One plain truth fresh from my heart,
I with confidence impart-
None can be more pleas'd than I,
When o'erflows your cup of joy:
Sweetest sleep attend your bed:
Azure skies above your head:
Coffers lin'd with well-got wealth,
Honest fame, and rosy health;
Faithful friends surround and bless you,
Beauty hast'ning to caress you:
Happy thro' th' ensuing year-
-Little muse thy lay forbear. 

FAREWELL, FIFTEEN, farewell forever!
Shall we meet more? Ah! never, never.
Peace to thy shade! the bourne is past,
Our requiems follow'd to the last.
Fair child of time, new born SIXTEEN,
Of earth's huge orb, we hail thee queen;
Our thousand millions bless thy reign,
And glory follows in thy train.
When the past year was usher'd in,
War still afflicted with its din;
Columbia's sons embattled stood,
And Briton's panted still for blood.
Far in the south our foes appear'd,
And high their vengeful ensigns rear'd,
E'en Afric's sooty sons were there,
The glory and the spoil to share;
They gave illusive Hope its sway,
And viewed Orleans as their prey;
-But kindest providence forbade,
And low the invading boasters laid.
A rustic band by glory led,
With vet'ran Jackson at their head,
On Mississippi's bosom flew,
To die, or drive the motley crew.
The foe in tactic pride appear'd
To meet a fate they little fear'd;
Columbia's thunder roar'd their knell,
Here squadrons fled, there columns fell;
Britania's Genius left the field,
And her best sons were seen to yield.
On Ocean's green bosom Old Ironsides rode,
Her ensigns untarnish'd, triumphantly flow'd:
She had met her opponents again and again,
And sealed their ruin in torrents of flame.
Two ill-fated corvettes once more felt her force,
And glory and victory follow'd of course.         
Glorious barque! should fortune frown,
Never haul thy pendant down,
Columbia's pride and Europe's wonder,
Rather sink in flame and thunder.
Here ceases the tale of heart-rending distress,
Bright PEACE intervenes, both to soothe and to bless,
To wipe away tears from the aspect of woe,
And make the full streamlet of joy overflow.
Columbia with rapture received the fair,
And loud British greetings arose in the air.
Our habits, religion, our manners, our name,
May our objects in future be ever the same:
To spread o'er the globe the blest tenets of peace,
To heighten the total of sublunar bliss,
To banish forever ambition and strife,
And spread in all regions the volumes of life.
To cloud for a moment this day of repose,
A foe in the insolent Afric arose;
He dar'd to insult the American star
By mentioning tribute, submission or war:
Decatur and Terror an answer convey'd
Best fitting the silly demand that was made,
In a combat unequal, their fleet fell a prey,
And passive submission concluded the fray.
That curse of mankind, and that fiend in disguise,
Like the blue flame of Etna, was seen to arise,
His prison escaped, on Gallia once more,
He was doom'd the full phial of vengeance to pour.
His tri-coloured standard, wet with blood, waved high,
To its shadow portentous his myrmidons fly.
Mild Louis in terror relinquish'd his throne,
Which the out-law remounted and claim'd as his own:
His comrades in arms, and copartners in crime,
Rush'd in crowds to his banner from every clime,
Enjoy'd in carousal the havoc of war,
And replaced Mars in his blood-stained car.
The sons of the north were constrained once more,
To darken those fields they had darken'd before,
Like the torrent from Atlas by thousands they pour,
And Belgia turn'd pale at the dreadful uproar.
On Waterloo's plain the dire conflict began;
Horse trampled on horse, and man grapled with man.
On a mount which o'erlook'd the horrible scene,
Sat that angel of discord, the grim Napoleon,
Enjoying the havoc - There Wellington stood,
And calmly survey'd the arena of blood,
Directing his columns, when to halt or advance,
And like the great Caesar, left nothing to chance.
With varying fortune the batle raged on,
Till low in the west faintly gleamed the sun,
When faint with fatigue and full many a wound,
The squadrons of Gallia began to give ground;
Their foes pressed on, their huzzas rent the sky,
Their sabres shine brighter, more thick the balls fly:
Night closes - the direful confusion increases,
And thro its long gloom the destruction ne'er ceases;
The impious despoiler led the van in the flight,
And owed his life to the shadows of night.
From a twice usurp'd throne now indignantly driv'n,
An outlaw with man and deserted by heav'n,
All rack'd with despair and bewilder'd with fear,
He fled to a dungeon and ceas'd his career.
He who so long a meteor shone,
Is now on Helen's granite thrown,
Watch'd like a felon night and day,
And muzzled as a beast of prey:
Above him, loud volcanoes roar,
Beneath, huge surges lash the shore;
But rougher scenes his mind must bear,
For hell itself is kindled there.
I've told my tale, I'm tired to death
And cease - to take a little breath.
"That you're fatigu'd, no doubt is true,
"And we, good lad, are tired too:
"Such as it is, your new years song
"Is very dull, and very long;
"With careful nursing it may live
"To see th' ensuing day arrive,
"Then down to sink in endless night
"Far from the snarling critic's spite.
"With no regret this mite is thrown,
"Your pure intentions well are known.
"Go, gentle Tyro, go your way,
"And pass with bouyant heart the day." 

An ancient sage was once requir'd
To name the object most desired;
Reply'd in brief, nor less sublime,
Twas sum'd in one short word, 'twas TIME.
With Time the fair creation rose
And steady Time still onward goes
With ceaseless pace, 'till that great day
When in portentous dread array
'Th Angelic herald's trump shall pour
These awful words "TIME IS NO MORE."
But still that solemn hour shall come,
The tide of Time goes rolling on,
And each expiring billow view
'Th expansive heaving of the new.
The varying scenes which mark'd the year,
Which now has finish'd its career,
With hasty pencil I will trace
And at your feet the sketching place.
In Europe the banner of carnage still waves.
O'er a region but recently crowded with slaves,
Yet goaded by wrongs, they have rush'd to the field,
And sworn by their altars they never can yield.
The friends of the Cross in their day of distress
The Czar of the north for assistance address
But the Czar of the north, more of FREEDOM afraid
Than the sabre of Selim, refus'd them his aid;
His armies indignant return to their home
And point with the finger of scorn at the throne.
The Greeks tho' unaided continue the strife
Contending for honor, for freedom and life;
E'en females, resplendent in graces and charms
Rush forward and join in the conflict of arms;
The Cross full before them - Their tyrants in sight
They scornfully spurn, or submission or flight;
They engage - And they triumph - The turban lies low
Too honor'd to fall by so glorious a blow;
The fleets too of Selim, experienc'd their ire
And their high floating crescents were wrapped in fire.
Altho Europe's crowned despots combine to neglect them
May Heavenly goodness behold and protect them.
The congress of royals in secret divan
Respect ev'ry right save the best rights of man;
So safe be preserved the sceptre and crown
No matter if freedom and morals go down.
Confusion and Discord have seized on Spain,
And whether'd a Cortes or Ferdinand reign
Is still undecided - We hope for the best
And TIME will ere long put the question to rest.
The political cauldron of Portugal boils
And Peace shrinks aside at the tumults and broils;
Braganza a despot must shortly remain
Or the people indignant themselves seize the rein.
Old England is tranquil as England can be
With her foot on the land and her hand on the sea;
In her lap, all capacious, the nations still pour
The harvest and gleanings of every shore;
Tho her debt like the millstone is sinking her fast,
She will hurry and bustle and shine to the last.
The Atlantic recrossed, I enraptur'd again
Salute these blest shores and my own native plain;
Hail land of my birth! Here Religion and Science,
And each moral feeling, are in closest alliance,
Where Liberty's banner floats cheeringly high
And accents of happiness rise to the sky;
Hail land of my birth! May thy glories endure
Till the last consummation and time be no more.
In session at Washington, Congress is sitting
In sage consultation on the just and the fitting,
'Twixt the plough and the keel the true balance to hold,
The mystic arcana of finance to unfold,
Draw banks from their mist to the glare of noon day
And tear from finesse all its cobweb away;
Draw the dagger of death on the buccaneer crew
Whose crimes fill with horror the old world and the new,
To the gibbet and sword throw the ruffian a prey,
And commerce glide on in her old smiling way.
Enlightened sages go on as begun
And millions will hail your return with "Well done"
America happy in Freedom and Peace
Sees her frontiers advancing, Her millions encrease;
Religion delighted sees temples arise
Where prayer and praises ascend to the skies;
The arts and the sciences march hand in hand
And rustic improvements embellish the land;
Cots, hamlets and cities, arising around,
And smiling Contentment is ev'ry where found.
Our canvass too, whitens each river and sea,
For our commerce is open, unshackled and free,
The wants of all nations we wish to supply,
And meet their reciprocal feelings with joy.
O'er our national barques see the spangled flag flying
Our anchor of hope on occasions most trying;
In peace unobtrusive, but in war's fearful rage,
Hurling ruin and death on the foes they engage.
Our favorite hero, our ALLEN has bled,
When in combat unequal he fearlessly led,
In a frail open pinnance, his slender array
To seize on the pirate or fall in the fray,
He sunk - But his name will be dear to us ever,
Can his country forget to deplore him? Oh never;
May a similar flame in our heroes still burn,
When they crowd to his statue and weep o'er his urn.
Festive strains salute my ear,
Strains that hail the new-born year;
In the boys what cheerful faces!
Girls display a thousand graces.
Merchants quit their stores awhile:
Stately matrons deign to smile.
Age itself forgets its care,
On this birthday of the year.
I alas! must see all this,
But forego the beck'ning bliss;
Duty calls me to your feet
With this reeking votive sheet:
Oft before you have I stood
Bending low in gratitude:
Pardon this my last endeavor,
To obtain your smiles and favor.
I could mention winter's terrors
Speak of summer's torrid fervors,
Greet you with a thousand storms,
Dangers in a thousand forms,
Ever frowning in the way
On the news deliver day.
But 'tis neither fair or witty
Thus to urge my PATRONS' pity;
Pity! no, I here disclaim it,
You yourselves wont let me name it.
On her MERIT rests thy Muse,
Grace her kindly if you choose.
As you have smiled on me may heaven smile upon you,
The sky o'er your heads be enchantingly blue,
The streamlets and rivers which flow at your feet
Be smooth as the mirror, as the eglantine sweet,
No thorn in the roses that lie in your road,
And the angel of PEACE hov'ring o'er your abode.

AS Satan was taking an airing one day
Columbia's fair genius fell plump in his way,
Array'd like a goddess, and blooming as May,
Vile monster, said she, you oppose me in vain,
My people shall surely their wishes obtain;
You can but perplex us - and so mark the end on't,
For, sooner or later they'll be independent.
What you say, quoth the fiend, I confess is too true,
But why not allow the poor devil his due;
Give me one of your states, and the rest shall be free
To follow their fate, unmolested by me.
Agreed! said the lady, if that's all you want,
Here take and enjoy it - it is my Vermont.
Oh! ho! exclaim'd Satan, how gen'rous you've grown,
So kindly to give what's already my own.
So thank you for nothing, fair lady, I trow
The devil is not to be bamboozl'd so.
Come - down with your dust - you know what I mean.
I must have at least one of your fav'rite Thirteen.
A tear in her eye, and a sigh from her breast
The doubts and the fears of the genius confest;
But while she was puzzled, unable to find
Which state might with ease be to Satan resign'd,
The five per cent. impost-law popt in her mind.
This settled the point - she look'd up with a smile and
presented his Fiendship the state of Rhode Island.
He seiz'd the fair prize - cram'd it into his pocket,
And darted away in a blaze, like a rocket. 

WITH a pipe of Virginia, how happy am I,
And good liquor to moisten my clay, standing by,
I puff up the smoke, and it curls round the room,
Like a Phoenix I seem, in a nest of perfume
Delighting,
Inviting,
In a pipe, and a friend who is fond of a joke,
Then happy together we tipple and smoke.
How pleasant it is thus to puff time away,
And between ev'ry whiff chat the news of the day;
Tobacco, great Raleigh, we owe to thy name,
And ev'ry true smoker will puff up thy fame.
Delighting,
Inviting,
In a pipe, and a friend who is fond of a joke,
Then happy together we tipple and smoke.
When business is over, we puff away care,
Let ev'ry man else say the same if he dare,
This plant, so delightful, is a foe to the spleen,
As it glows in the pipe it enlivens the scene.
Delighting,
Inviting,
In a pipe, and a friend who is fond of a joke,
Then happy together we tipple and smoke.
While thus in the fumes we're envelop'd around,
Our heads are like hills which with clouds still are crown'd;
Yes soon we emerge, and go cheerful away,
For a pipe of the best makes us bright as the day.
Delighting,
Inviting,
In a pipe, and a friend who is fond of a joke,
Then happy together we tipple and smoke.

TAKE a city once founded on Victory's field,
Where Philip's great son compell'd Porus to yield;
A chieftan of Thebes, for his valour renown'd,
Who fell like a Mercer with victory crown'd;
The Norman who seiz'd on Britannia's domains,
Defeated her king, and assumed the reins;
The name that the monarchs of Peru once bore,
Whom their subjects rever'd, and as Gods did adore;
The subtle young Theban, who quickly disclos'd
The perplexing enigma that Sphinx had propos'd;
The King who, when Israel's wise monarch was dead,
Assum'd the tiara, and reign'd in his stead;
And a river in Asia, where splendidly rise
The walls of fair Tesslis, that rear to the skies.
The initials of these will discover the name
Of a rich growing town, not unnotic'd by Fame;
By whose walls the bold Hudson with majesty pours,
And floats down the wealth that enriches its shores;
Where Commerce rolls on, with her thousand loud wheels,
And Trade a bright harvest of affluence yields.
There steals not a tide, nor ere whispers a gale,
But wafts in her harbour the white floating sail,
Which conveys the fair gifts that kind nature imparts,
And all the bright treasures produc'd by the arts.
Hail! daughter of Commerce, Columbia's fair pride,
Where Freedom, and Science, and Friendship reside;
Where kind Hospitality opens the door,
And welcomes the stranger that visits her shore;
Where Philanthropy warms and ennobles the heart,
And Charity hastens her aid to impart:
Where Knowledge and Wisdom their empire maintain,
And Beauty and Virtue triumphantly reign.
The sons of the East, where proud tyrants oppress,
Shall here find a refuge secure from distress;
Inspir'd by fair Freedom, their aid they shall lend,
Her turrets to rear, and her walls to extend.
What transports extatic the bosom assail,
When Fancy uplifts dark Futurity's veil,
And views this fair regent encircling more ground
Than Babylon's turrets did ever surround;
See Art and fair Science new wonders unfold,
Magnificent temples emblazon'd with gold;
Sees myriads of freemen exult in her streets,
And her bay and her rivers all cover'd with fleets!
Old Carthage and Tyre, the proud Queens of the main,
Shall here find a Queen that will river their fame,
Whose fleets seas now traverse, and hear oceans roar,
Which Tyre, Rome, and Carthage, ne'er dar'd to explore.
As years shall increase, so her glory shall rise!
Her fame and her praise shall resound to the skies,
'Till ages on ages revolving are past,
'Till the joys of Millenium no longer shall last,
'Till the unballanc'd spheres from their orbits shall run,
And with flames all envelop'd rush into the sun!
ON the banks of Hydaspes Nicara was built,
By the son of great Philip, renown'd;
Epaminondas expir'd like Mercer the brave,
With the wealth of bright victory crown'd.
To the crown of king Harold bold William laid claim,
And invaded Britannia's fair shore;
The kings of Peru were by millions rever'd,
And the title of Yncas they bore.
The riddle of Sphinx was by Oedipus solv'd,
Rehoboam over Israel did reign;
Fair Tisslis adorns the gay banks of the Kur,
That enriches the Georgian plain.
Now join these initials, and soon will appear
NEW-YORK, not unnotic'd by Fame;
On the shores of the West, th' emporium of trade,
And in time the fair queen of the main.
Yes, here the bold Hudson, with majesty flows,
Its banks with gay foliage o'erspread,
Proud Thames and old Tiber would drown in its wave,
And wide Danube might roll in its bed.
New-York! oh! blest Peace still reside in her walls,
Here genius of Freedom remain,
Philanthropy, warm, still ennoble the heart,
And, oh! Virtue triumphantly reign.
Fair Science, go on, still allure with thy charms,
And cherish the emulous flame,
Direct our brave youth, who to glory aspire,
And pant for the plaudits of Fame.
When they enter thy portals, then point to the wall,
And say, "You who pant with desire,
"Here a JAY and a HAMILTON courted my charms,"
And the names their young bosoms shall fire.
O teach them the blessings of Freedom to prize,
And to die in defence of their laws;
Let them know how their fathers most valiantly fought,
And bled in fair Liberty's cause.
New-York! may curs'd Faction ne'er brood in thy walls;
May Luxury never prevail,
May sordid Corruption be banish'd thy shore,
And Justice well balance her scale.
If her sons will resolve to be virtuous and free,
Her name and her praise shall resound
Till Fame's silver trumpet shall crumble to dust,
And Time bring her sane to the ground.

TO carry NEWS in bales or casks,
Jugs, hogsheads, porrengers or flasks,
Come how they may - hot, cool or cold,
Stow'd in the all-capacious hold.
Fierce PARTY PIECES, all on fire,
In hen-coops must be packed higher;
Full in the drenching buckets play
Whene'er the flame emits its ray.
Safe underneath the black cabouse
Will lay the DITTY light and loose:
While in the steerage snug and sure
Can rest the moral SCRAP secure.
The ANECDOTE, Hint and Receipt,
shall all a warm attention meet;
Pxx close beyond the patt'ring rain
Low in the rundlet's dark domain.
High on the deck, and full in view,
Will stand the ADVERTISEMENT crew:
Point blank, a never hidden mark;
Like horses on the yankey bark.
If thunders roar, or lightnings flash,
Fierce winds shrill whistle - billows dash:
In ev'ry conflict known to ocean,
Whate'er the elements emotion;
The PILOT will collected stand,
Avoid the rocks, and shun the land.
(Deep sands of malice, rocks of pow'r)
And all the perils of the hour;
Forever keeping in his eye
The compass, IMPARTIALITY.
Each kindly aiding breese he'll own,
And bless each tide that wafts him on,
Till safe within the port in view
The anchor drops a last adieu.

FAIR Adaline sigh'd on her brave warrior's breast,
When contest's loud din to the field call'd away.
With passions, contending, her bosom was prest,
While her fast flowing tears gently bade him to stay.
But war o'er her country its terrors had spread,
And her cities were pale with invasion's alarms;
"Go, ALWYN, repel the invaders," she said,
And the laurel of victory bring to my arms."
The cannon loud thunder'd; the drum's troubled sound,
Re-echo'd the vales and the woodland's among,
The high mettled courser paw'd fiercely the ground,
While the fault'ring adieu died on Adaline's tongue.
To the grim scenes of battle the hero quick sped,
And rush'd thro' the storm like the thunder's dread gleam.
The foe, overthrown, were slain, captur'd or fled,
And Peace, led by Victory, wept o'er the scene.
But a ball that whiz'd horrent along the dark air,
Just when was decided the fate of the plain,
Pierc'd our brave soldier's bosom with honor's deep scar,
And he sunk in his blood mid the piles of the slain.
To Adaline's ear the sad news was convey'd,
A sigh rose convulsive; her pulse ceas'd to play;
"I'll fly to thy bosom, my hero," she said,
And her soul thro' the regions of light soar'd away.
But Alwyn was fated his Fair to survive,
Though long time he languish'd in torturing pain;
From the heaps of the slain he was taken alive,
And health and firm soundness restor'd him again.
To Adaline's mansion he hastily press'd,
His heart beat in raptures while swell'd with her charms:--
"A tear will she yield to the fear on my breast,
As the laurel of victory graces her arms".
But in vain for his fair one he anxiously calls,
In vain thro' each aisle and apartment he roams,
His voice trembles lonely along the far walls,
And the echoes lament her in deep sounding groans.
Now in a drear cave, unfrequented by light,
At the foot of yon mountain, all shrouded in gloom,
See Alwyn conversing with spectres of night,
While he points to the willow that weeps o'er her tomb.

Amid the varying scenes of life,
Where wasting care, and noisy strife
The shifting drama fill;
In this dark valley drowned in tears,
Augmented by increasing years,
HOPE lights her taper still.
What though the soul ride on the waves,
Where danger lurks, and terror raves,
To fright the goddess' joy;
To save her from the rock Despair,
Hope is her steady anchor there--
Credulity the buoy.
What though a deluge whelm the ground,
Nought but the sea be seen around,
And naught but heaven above;
Like Noah, on the tide of grief,
The mind soon finds a sweet relief,
And Hope her herald-dove.
Thus, when the box of misery broke,
Fair Hope survived the cruel shock--
--Catholieon most sure--
For all the pains that wreck the mind,
And all the ills that vex mankind,
Herself a ready cure.

A Snail thus once addressed a Rose:
"O fairest thou, and sweetest flower
Which Flora bids her charms disclose,
And shed her sweetness thro' the bower!
Pardon, I pray, your humble slave,
(Pursued the Snail with great respect)
Only one little fault you have,
Which you might easily correct.
I mean those sharp and ugly thorns,
Which wound who'er approaches near;
Mar every beauty that adorns,
And each admirer fills with fear.
Zephyr, himself your faithful lover,
How new, how cruel is his case;
Dares only round your beauties hover,
And fears to meet your fond embrace."
The poison caught--the Rose consented,
And strip'd herself of every thorn;
But oh! how soon must be repented
The error of that cruel morn.
The guardian thorn no sooner gone,
The snail became, from humble free;
Easy and impudent came on,
And crawl'd up the defenceless tree.
There quickly cankering every leaf,
Each flower and opening bud he ate;
And now the rose perceived with grief
Her error; but perceived too late!
Her fragrance gone: her beauty blasted,
And fled her young and virgin pride,
Her life was bitter while it lasted,
But soon she broke her heart and died.
Ye fair, whom snail like flatterers sue,
Mark what the awful moral shows;                                  
Virtue is beauty's thorn in you,
And oh be wiser than the Rose.

'Twas on a May morn's earliest dawn,
A Filly ambled down the lawn,
When full before her grimly stood,
A famish'd wolf in search of food.
Well met sweet miss! the ruffian cried,
Well met indeed, the colt replied:
A charming morning added he,
A charming morning echo'd she;
I am in haste, pray give me way,
I must not, cannot, will not stay:

But prythe why in such a hurry,
There's nothing gain'd by fuss and hurry.
A little minute's all I claim.
Nay do not frown my pretty dame,
Your'e young, you're very young, I deem.
Pray what's your age my lovely Queen?

I cannot say, but I am told
It's written on my foot in gold;
A Fairy pen'd it there in jest--
Read it -- and set your heart at rest.

Upon my honour I declare
I cannot see a letter there.

View closer then, the Filly cries!
Again he pores again he pries:

Not quicker from the embroiled sky
Does the impetuous lightning fly,
Than both her heels full in his face,
And brains and blood bestew'd the place.

Tis fair that biters should be bit,
And wit be doom'd to combat wit. 

On sportive pinions once I flew,
And rang'd the meadows round;
For me the peach and cherry grew,
No want, nor grief I found.
But short the date of pleasure is,
While sorrows long prevail.
Gone is the flattering scene of bliss--
Ah, hear my plaintive tale!
The fowler came with fatal art,
No friendly hand was nigh,
He pierc'd my bleeding lover's heart,
I saw him fall and die!
Deep in the bosom of a wood
I rear'd my chirping young;
For them I sought the sweetest food,
For them serenely sung.
A school boy saw the downy nest
Where all my treasure lay;
No pity touch'd his harden'd breast,
He stole my young away.
Of love and pleasure thus bereft
What can the wretched do?
What other refuge now is left?
For help I fly to you.
To you whose tender bosom knows
To feel for others' pain;
To whom the wretched tell their woes
Nor ever tell in vain.
By thy kind care and bounty fed
My griefs will lose their sting;
Again I'll raise my drooping head,
And plume my shatter'd wing.
Again I'll hail the rising day,
While pleasures round me throng;
And raise my sweetest notes, to pay
Thy bounties with my song. 

TAKE a heroine, free from the tincture of vice,
Renown'd for fine feeling, in sentiment nice;
No matter what country her birth may be found in,
Make a peevish old crab, that at nothing would faulter,
And who fully deserves for to swing from a halter;
Let him mark all the letters that she will deposit,
And find her, and the hero, lock'd up in a closet;
Then quote Hamlet's Ghost, but don't tire yourself much,
Only make old Curmudgeon as stiff as a crutch;
Then such kneeling, and praying, together you jumble,
And you bring off your lovers so meek and so humble.
If you can attempt it - why bring in a poem,
And if you have talents, the rhyming will show 'em;
Thus, subscribers will crowd in the hard-chearing roll,
And each critic shall think it quite fine on his soul.
A Confidant too, you must introduce,
Her name must be sprightly, her character spruce;
And if you should want for to lengthen the action,
Let the maid court with John, for your own satisfaction;
Let the reader be drown'd in a reverie deep,
But I hope o'er your book he won't quite fall asleep:
Then rouse him at once with soniferous thunder,
But when on the high horse, have a care, don't fall under.
Let a messenger enter as pale as a ghost!
With a letter of woe, that would soften a post -
The heroine reads, all her colour is fled,
John, the drops! or Belinda is certainly dead!
For her lover, quite wearied, and sick of his life,
Had determin'd to end all this trouble and strife;
You may say that he took a pestiferous vorax,
Or planted a bullet just under his thorax!
But don't, for your life, let the tame to go loose,
That your hero would tie up his neck in a noose;
That death is too common, beside, 'tis quite wrong,
For pois'ning, or shooting, is now quite the ton:
Tho' ev'ry man dies when he loses his breath,
Yet there ought to be some small decorum in death;
'Tis so rude for to step in a trice to your grave.
And not have the politeness to come take your leave;
For some are so brutish, such cormorants quite,
They don't think it worth while for to bid us good night. 

HARK! what glad sounds the dreary desart cheer,
And whisper peace to man's enraptur'd ear:
O'er Bethl'ms City see what glories rise,
What hues celestial paint the bending skies.
A Savior born! -- ye balmy winds that blow,
Waft the glad tidings earth's wide empire thro';
Ye roving clouds. ye waters as ye roll,
Bear the sweet burden to the farthe'st pole.
Tell mourning man, his days of grief are o'er,
The sigh of sorrow shall be heard no more,
On wings of peace, see God's own Son descend,
To pay our ransome and become our friend.
What love surpassing fill'd his Heav'nly mind,
With joyful haste he flew to lost mankind,
Assum'd our Nature, Sinner's place supplied,
Liv'd for our Peace; and for our Pardon -- died!
Then O my soul, thy dear redeemer love,
He left for thee the blissful seats above,
He bought for thee Salvation with his Blood,
He reconcil'd thee to an angry God. 

THE name of a general famed of old,
Who caused the Romans to quake we are told;
A place where by strategem Joshua took,
As recorded we find in the sacred book;
A monster that's said in the sea to reside,
A bird that was reckon'd unclean to the Jew,
But adored by Egypt's idolatrous crew:
A city renowned for splendor and trade,
Situate in an island in Europe 'tis said;
A measure that sometimes by Vinter's is us'd,
To measure a cordial that's sometimes abus'd;
The physician who charmed Orberus so well,
That he stole back his wife from the regions of hell:
The God who, if history and poets tell true,
Was the brother of Pluto and Jupiter too.
The initials of these, as above they appear,
Gives the name of a man to Columbia dear. 
HANNIBAL the great Carthagenian of old;
That caus'd the Romans to tremble (tho' bold)
Ai the city which Joshua took!
You read it in Chapter the eighth of that book.
Mermaid, or syren, as travellers relate;
Are oft' seen at sea - we leave them to fate;
Ibris a bird by th' Eyptians ador'd;
By the Jews 'twas despised, and by them abhor'd.
London's a city, (The island's well known,)
That's famous in Europe for weath and renown!
Tun, tierce, or tankard, which Vintner's may measure,
Their cyder, or wine, at the purchasers pleasure,
Orpheus, the musician, who charm'd Oberus so well!
That he snatch'd his poor wife from th' torments of hell.
Neptune the God of the ocean we know;
Was Jupiter's brother, and Pluto's also--
Th' initials of these (as above) they will name,
HAMILTON! well known, in Columbian fame! 

LO! from the east, sol's radiant beams appear,
And smile propitious, on this new-born year;
Each slated season, which revolves around
Demands anew, our gratitude to sound;
And witnesses kind Heav'n's benignant plan;
Whose boundless mercies, rest on fallen man
What tho' gay nature ceases now to bloom,
And dreary winter yields no sweet perfume;
What tho' the gardens have their beauty lost,
And fields, and meadows, are all chill'd by frost;
Altho' the trees stand naked, unadorn'd,
Stript of their verdure, destitute, forlorn;
Yet still for me, each season has its charms,
And winter's piercing cold has no alarms.
Peaceful within I sit around the fire,
And read those pages which I most admire;
There wrapt in thought! the contemplative mind
Soars back to earth -- scorns to be confin'd;
Marks well the progress of each varying year,
Pleas'd with those happier prospects which appear.

I ONCE was told a damsel fair,
Who was her parents' darling care,
From long indulgence peevish grown,
Could cry when pleas'd,
when pleas'd could frown:
The coquette and the prude affect,
Her views so artfully direct;
That you would think she was sincere,
Whene'er she smil'd or dropt a tear.
Habit at last had form'd her mind,
To change and turn just as the wind,
She oft would feign what ne'er she felt,
And in one moment freeze and melt;
By nature fair but spoil'd by art,
She could almost act any part:
In dress so elegant and neat,
An angel could not look more sweet,
No one could shew a tastier gown,
She was the belle of all the town.
One luckless day this pretty maid,
By some mishap herself betray'd;
It seems somehow - (my mem'ry fails
Besides I'm bad at telling tales)
But so it was, this little jade
At last a full confession made,
Which in a letter she did send,
To one - I think she call'd her friend.
I can't the exact story tell,
But here is the original;
Which for the sake of killing time,
One rainy day I turn'd to rhyme,
And if it will afford you pleasure,
You may read it at your leisure.--
"Believe me my much loved Miss,
I blush while I am writing this;
You know the love I have for you
Is very great - indeed 'tis true;
But I have acted such a part,
That it has almost broke my heart;
For when I heard you was unwell,
I wrung my hands my grief to tell;
I beat my breast I tore my hair,
Like one o'erwhelm'd with deep despair,
Then shriek'd till I could shriek no more,
And in a swoon dropt on the floor!
'Help help!' - I heard my parents cry,
At their commands the servants fly,
'Run run - the doctor quick - don't stay -
My child is dying - haste, away'-
"All now was in confusion thrown,
And ev'ry hope of life was flown,
Each face in sabled grief was clad,
Each eye was moist, each heart was sad,-
Around my bed in sore amaze,
My parents stand and sadly gaze
Now seem resign'd now burst in tears,
Express alternate hopes and fears!--
"While thus my friends my fate deplore,
Wide open flies the parlour door,
The doctor enter'd in great haste,
And soon himself beside me plac'd:
My pulse he felt, then shook his head,
Seem'd half to smile, but nothing said;
With critic eye survey'd my face,
And seem'd my very thoughts to trace;
He own'd the symptoms "wond'rous strange,"
But thought he could "effect a change,"
Then from his case he drew his lance,
And I - awoke out of my trance!--
"Sorrow now fled from every eye,
Each clouded brow turn'd into joy;
Gratulation from great and small,
Was heard resounding through the hall,
And when all thought my danger fled,
The doctor said I must be bled!
The thoughts of bleeding made me shiv'r,
And I declar'd I felt quite clev'r;
So up I jumpt brisk as a mouse,
The doctor laugh'd and left the house!-
Astonishment now seiz'd each breast,
And for a while each tongue supprest;
So great so sudden the surprise,
Noone could scarce believe his eyes:
But Oh! what torments wrung my heart,
When all at least cried out "what art!"--
Guilt, conscious guilt sat in my look,
I felt like one that's thunder-struck!
Then like a sinner in distress,
"Confess'd my guilt and wickedness.--
"How subject we to folly's call,
Into what errors do we fall!
A disease called Affectation,
(Well known to folks in high fashion)
Directed by some evil fiend,
Admittance found into my mind;
And conjur'd up the picked passion,
Of which I've giv'n you a relation.
Altho I feign'd myself so sick,
You plainly see 'twas all a trick;
A trick by which a graceless wife,
often torments her husband's life,
When she a favour would extort
Of the pecuniary sort;
And yet the cheat he cannot see,
But thinks it all reality:
Then to compose his dying elf,
Instead of med'cine give her pelf;
Quick are its virtues and 'tis sure
To bring relief - but not a cure!
For in a week or two perhaps,
She falls into a deep relapse,
When all her pranks are acted o'er
Perhaps ten times worse than before! --
"From hence my dearest friend I've found,
Inconsistency knows no bound;
And those that on her ways attend,
Trav'l round a circle without end.
How careful then to keep a guard,
Weigh well each action and each word,
Turn a deaf ear to tittle tattle,
And unmeaning silly prattle,
So shall we 'scape a world of strife,
Sail smoothly down the stream of life.
And when this earthly voy'ge is o'er,
Land safely on the blissful shore,
The haven where our toils shall cease,
There dwell in everlasting peace.--

At the seat of instruction, where once she was blest,
Fair science sat mourning with sadness oppres'd.
Her maps and her volumes lay scatter'd around;
Her globes, all in fragments, were strew'd on the ground,
There lay, in rude tatters, the relics of sense;
The waste and destruction of genius immense.
She sigh'd, shook her head, and with anguish began,
Alas! for the boy when he thinks he's a man:
When his nature grows tall, and his fingers begin
To stroke the soft down that comes over his chin
When he talks of assemblies, assumes a fine air,
Falls in love, as he calls it, and dreams of the fair,
This school and these students, I claim as my own,
Here my precepts were utter'd, my maxims made known;
I open'd my treasures, around me they came,
And I rais'd their ambition for glory and fame.
I display'd the fair honors for wisdom design'd,
And the list'ning content she bestows on the mind.
They heard me with rapture; i saw in their eyes
Fair hope, emulation and genius arise;
I hail'd the glad omen! my children! I cried,
Let no pleasing objects your bosom divide,
Till crown'd with fair virtue, for glory design'd,
I'll bestow you, a blessing and joy to mankind.
Ah! fond expectation! I saw with despair,
How soon they forsook me to wait on the fair,
While I talk'd of the planets that roll through the skies,
Their minds were on dimples and beautiful eyes;
I laid down positions and strove to explain;
They thought of Eliza, Louisa, and Jane.
I saw a fine youth as apart he retir'd,
He seem'd with the ardor of science inspir'd,
His books and his pen were dispos'd in due place,
And deep lines of thinking were mark'd on his face.
Sweet hope in my breast was beginning to swell,
And I lov'd the dear boy that could study so well;
Nor shall my assistance be wasted, I cried,
I'll crown my exertions and spring to his side.
Alas! an acrostic! the verses were planned,
The name was all written, the letters were scann'd,
The initials arrang'd to promote the design,
and his genius was working to get the first line.
I shut up my Euclid, I blush'd for myself.
I laid Blair and Murray again on the shelf,
Disappointed, ashamed and o'ercome with regret
I utter'd a wish I shall never forget,
That all the dear maidens my counsels would prize,
And shun every lad till he's learned and wise.