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POSTET. We publish with especial pleasure, the annexed tribute of one, himself rio uninspired poet^ to the gifted Mrs. Hemans.—A*. Y. *3mer. TO MRS. HEMANS —BT BERNARD BARTON. Lady! if I for thee would twine The Ivy wreath,—can feeling trace No cause why, on a brow,like thine, The Muse might filly pace Its verdant foliage—“ Hirer sere, w ' Of glossy and of changeless hue ? All! Yes—there is a cause most deaf To Truth and Nature too. It is not that it long hath been Combined with thoughts of festal rite; The cup which thou hast drank, I ween, Not always sparkled bright! Nor is it that it hath been twin’d Round Victory’s brow in days gone by j Such glory has no power to blind Thy intellectual eye. For thou can’st look beyond the hour, Elated by the wine cup’s thrall; Beyond the Victor’s proudest power, Unto the end of all! And therefore would I round thy brow The deathless wreath of Ivy place ; For well thy song has proved that thou Art worthy of its grace. ' captain, starting to his feet, ‘ did his Italian j once was your friend ! Will his blood atone J leon’s management, this anecdote. 44 As friends forsake Otho in his hour of need 1 for your past si iffering 1 Will his eondemna- the dearth of bread and other causes of dis- I Had earth, and earth's delights alone, Unto thv various strains giv’o birth, Then had I o’er thy temples thrown ff The fading flowers of earth ' *^»And trusting that e’en these, portray’d \ By thee in song, would spotless be, The jasmine’s, lily’s, harebell’s braid, Should brightly bloom for thee. But thou to more exalted themes Hast nobly urg’d the Muses’ claim; And other light before thee beams Than Fahey’s meteor flame. And fiom thy harp’s entrancing strings Strains have proceeded more sublime Than e’er were wakened T»y the things Which appertain to Time! Yes! Fc\’iale Minstrel! thon hast set, Even tb the masters of the Lyre, An eloquent example!—yet How law have caught thy firel, • How few of their most lofty lays Have to Religion’s cause been given, And taught the kindling sou! to raise Its hopjis, its thoughts to heaven! Yet this, ,at least, has been thy aim; For thou “ hast chos’n that better part,” Above the lure of worldly fame, To touch—and teach the heart! To touch it by no slight appeal To feelings—in each heart contest; - To teach hy truths that bear the seal God hath himself imprest. . , . And can those flowers, which bloom to fade, For thee a tilting wreath appear? No! wear thou, then, the Ivy braid, Whoi^ leaves are never sere ! . It is vtt gloomy—brightly play The sunbeams on its glossy green; tftly on it.alfepsYthe^ray J^^aJlserfen^s^jU It changes not as seasons flow 7 In changeful, silent course along; Spring finds it verdant, leaves it t It outlives Summer’s song. _ Autumn no wan or russet stain Upon its fadeless glory flings, And Winter o’er it sweeps in vain, With tempest on his wings. , ** Then wear thou this”—Thv Ivy CROwihy And though the bard who twines it be < Unworthy of thy just renown, Sufth wreath is worthy thee. For hcr*s it is, who, truly wise, To Virtue’s cause her powers hath given; Whose page the “ Gates of Hell ” defies, And points to those of Heaven ! This repays the tyrant well for casting from hint' true "hearts and brave hands !’ £ You are a German,’ said the Emperor, fixing his eagle eye on the pirate ; * what can you know of Otho’s private councils?’—A fierce light blazed in the dark eyes of the robber, as he replied, 4 What do I not know of them? you should have said Hear me, Sir Knight, and then judge be' ween this accursed ty rant and me!'—Te paused, covered his face with his hanos, and appeared for some time struggling with bitter reflections; then continued, in a calmer tone, ‘ Stranger, you see before you one of the noblest-descended princes of the German empire, the unfortu nate Philip of Cologne.’ The emperor started—-a deadly paleness stole over his countenance—his lip quivered, and his eyes involuntarily sought the ground, as the pi rate proceeded in his narrative.— 4 I served (nv, first apprenticeship in arms under the banner of Otho, and we reaped together im mortal glory in many a field. In the war with the Sarmatia, the regiments under my command surprised one night the camp of the enemy; we took much spoil, and made many prisoners. Among the captives was young and lovely female, the only daughter of a man of rank, who, dying of his wounds, committed her, with a father’s blessing, to his victorious foe. Had I followed the first generous impulse of my breast, I should have restored the weeping damsel to her friends and country; but my heart soon own ed for the unprotected stranger a tenderer passion. Our affection was mutual, and she promised to become my bnde, when the days appointed for the mourning for her father were expired. In the interval, re turning to Vienna, I was received with the most flattering demonstrations of regard by the treacherous Otho. But woe to him who puts any trust in the faith of princes ! He accidentally saw, and became deeply ena mouredof my beautiful Sarmatian. His passion knew no bounds, and cruelty sug gested the most speedy method of satisfying his wishes. Finding me determined never to surrender my promised bride, he accused me of treason, and suborned witnesses, was tried by the circle of princes; they dreaded the indignation of the Emperor, and I was sentenced to a heavy fine and per petual banishment. Rage, despair, and love, were struggling ; n my breast; I gave myself up to the fury that possessed me ; and, in the bitterness of the moment, denounced dreadful imprecations on the head of the man who was the author of my sufferings. But the measure of his crimes was not yet full. Eudocia resisted his passion, and treated the bribes ne offered her, with the contempt they merited. Accusing her of magic, the enraged and vindictive Emperor sent her, under a strong escort, a prisoner to a dis tant castle. Permitted to hid adieu to my aged parents before 1 quitted orever my na tive land, I had not been many hours beneath the roof of my paternal castle before a friend communicated to me the the tidings of Eu- docia’s sentence and approaching imprison ment. My first idea was- AaJiurprise the escort, and win back my bride at the point of the sword.—This resolve I -instantly car ried into execution. I assembled rnyfriends and vassals—I pointed out my injuries—I urged them as men, and as cnmradaf to assist me in rescuing /from tion ensure your eternal welfare?’ The war- satisfaction, continued to produce commo ner paused,—‘ By you, Philip of Cologne, tion in Paris, the general of the interior was my voice was never before unheard,* resum- sometimes obliged to oppose them with the ed the lovely woman, and whose disguise I military force.—On one occasion, it is said, could no longer conceal, from the Emperor when Bonaparte was anxiously admonishing the wife of the pirate—-‘ ever generous and the multitude to disperse, a very bulky wo- noble even to your enemies, prove to thm man exhorted them to keep their ground, unhappy prince how far virtue can triumph 4 Never mindthese coxcombs with the epau- over the mean spirit of revenge.’—‘ Angel!’ lettes,* she satid, ‘ they donot care if we all exclaimed the Emperor cease to plead ; starve, so they themselves feed and get fat.’ your supplications are to my wounded spirit worse than tne pangs of death. May the just God fhrgivft me for the ills I have wrought!*—HV-covered his face with his hands to conceal the agitation which was visible in every feature; but, in despite of I all his efforts to repel them, the bright drops forced their wav through his clenched fin- * Look at me, good woman,’ said Bonaparte, who was then as thin as a shadow, ‘ and tell me which is the fattest of us two.’ This turned the laugh against the' amazon, and the rabble dispersed in good humour.” The follovring anecdote is probably fa miliar to most of our readers : “ A fine boy of ten, or twelve years old, gers.—The pirate gazed on the conscience presented himself at the levee of the general stricken prince, till the \vrath of his coun- of the interior, with a request of a* nature tenance passed away, and the tears trembled unusually interesting. He stated his name in his own fierce eyes. ‘ Live, he said, 4 Re- to be Eugene Beauharnois, son of the ci-de- store these brave pien to their former rank yant viscompt de Beauharnois, who, adhe- and fortune, and thjis degraded arm shall re- ring to the revolutionary party, had been a instate you on the throne of your ancestors.’ general in the republican service upon the ‘ No returned the Emperor, 'mournfully, Rhine, and fulling under the causeless sus- ‘ I will not accept life at your hands. A picion of the committee of public safet y,was self-condemned and guilty man. I will not delivered to the revolutionary tribunal, and attempt to excuse crimes committed in the fell by its sentence just four days before the lustofpower, in the heat of youthful passion, overthrow of Robespierre. Eugene was ‘ Has futurity then no terrors?’ said Philip, come to request of Bonaparte, as general of ‘ None to him who has made his peace | the interior, ithat his father’s sword might he with Heaven,’ returned Otho, 4 who has of fered at the shrine of mercy the humble sa crifice of a broken heart.’ 4 Has your repentance been deep enough to rob the grave of its victory ?’ 4 Your noble brother, who lies a corpse in yonder wood, could best have resolved you that question. Oh that his mailed breast j restored to him. The prayer of the young supplicant was as interesting as his manners were engaging, and Napoleon felt so much concerned in him, that he w as induced to I cultivate the acquaintance of Eugene’s mo- [ ther, afterwards the Empress Josephine. 44 When Madame Beauharnois and Gen. Bonaparte became intimate, the latter as- the second step, the two lions expanded their claws. On his- reaching the third step, the whole assembly of demons, and fairies, and men, repeated the praises of the Deity. When he arrived at the fourth step, voices were heard addressing him in the following manner:—‘‘-Son of David, be thankful for the blessings the Almighty ha8 bestowed upon you:*** The same was re peated on his reaching-the fifth step. On his touching the sixth, alf the children of Is rael joined them ; and on liis arrival at the seventh, all the throne, birds, and animals, became in motion, nnd ceased not until he had placed himself in the royal seat, when the birds, lions and other animals, by secret springs, discharged a shower of the most precious perfumes on the prophet; after which, two of the kurgesses, descending, placed a golden crown upon his head. Be fore the throne was a column of burnished gold, on the top of which was a golden dove, which held in its beak a volume bound iir silver. In this hook were written the Psalms of David; and the dove having presented the book to the king, he read aloud a por tion of it to the children of Israel.—It is further related, that on the approach of wicked persons to this throne, the lions were wont to set up a terrible roaring, and : to lash their tails with violence; the birds also began to bristle up their feathers, and the assembly of demons and genii to utter horrid cries ; so that for the fear of them 1 no person dared he guilty of falsehood, l>»\t confessed their crime. Such was the throne of Solomon the son of David.” was my pillow ; that the hand, which vainly J sures us, and we see no reason to doubt him defended him against a host of foes, were that although the lady was two or three cold and stiff like his !’ The outlaw turned j years older than himself, yet being still in away, deeply affected, while the Emperor the bloom of beauty, and extremely agreea- eontinu»?jd— 4 To atone in some measure for ble in her manners, he was induced, solely the wrongs I heaped'upon your head, I pas-1 by her_personal charms, to make an offer sed an edict, recalling you to your country, of his hand, heart, and fortunes—little sup- and restoring you to the honour:- of which I posing, of course, to what a pitch the latter my cruel tyranny had deprived you. I or-[wereto arise.—Bonaparte was then in his dered diligent search to be made, in every I twenty-sixth year: Josephine gave herself realm, for the exiled prince of Cologne ; J in the marriage contract for twenty-eight, but all my endeavours to discover the place j 44 They were married 9th March, 1796, of your retreat .ployed fruitless ; I bestowed I and the dowry of the bride was the chief on your lamented brother the favours I had J command of the Italian armies, a scene in store,for you. At your feet l ask forgive- which opened a full career to the ambition ness of the past, and demand the fulfilment J of the youthful General. Bonaparte remain- of the just sentence your lips pronounced [ ed with his wife only three days after his m arms, destruction a lovely and unfortunate woman OTHO OF GERMANY, AND THE PIRATE OF A,d * d b . y<be darkness of the night, we suc- THE MEDITERRANEAN. 1 ceeded in our enterprise, leaving but one [Concluded.] I man of the whole escort to return with the The cavern was strongly illuminated with j tale. For that adventure the ban of the torches, which gleamed on arms and tro- j empire was pronunced against me ; my phies won from remote and barbarous na-1 name was erased from the list of princes tions. The captain, however, motioned my banner was trampled under foot; and a Otho to a seat at the lower end of the hoard, high reward was offered for my head. Pur- and having seen him well supplied with re- sued from realm to realm, destitute of home freshment. turned to a beautiful youth who or an abiding place, m y name became a bye was seated at his right hand, bis.Tiead res- word, aproverb in the mouth of my enemies, ting oh a small lute. With that youth he I The sea was before me: I had no other re entered into earnest conversation, from time source : I joined myself to a band of brave to time casting significant glances on Otho. j but desperate men, and became a pirate and The Emperor encountered the full languish- J robber at the hands of Otho!’ The outlaw ing blue eye of the stripl'ng, whose colour ceased, and again passed his trembling hand mounted even to the snowy temples, which 1 over his brow. against me.’ j marriage, hastened to see his family, who He would have thrown himself at the pi-1 were still at Marseilles, and having enjoyed rate’s feet; hut the chief received him in his I the pleasures of exhibiting himself as a fa- arms ere his knee could touch the earth. I vorite of Fortune in the city wh ; ch he had Deep silence for some minutes pervaded the | lately left in the capacity of an indigent ad- assembly; till the hand, springing to their I venturer, proceeded rapidly to commence feet, and brandishing aloft their weapons. I the career to which fate called him, by pla- made. the cavern ring, with 4 Long live Otho Icing himself at the head of the Italian army.” of (Germany! Long live Philip of Cologne!’ J The reviewer after giving Sir Walter’s ac- The pirate, true to his promise, safely I count of the system of the conqueror, pro- transported the F.mperor to the nearest Ger-1 ceeds—“ The Italian campaigns constitute man port ; and the world soon forgot, in the J an epoch in the history of the art of war. They commander in chief of her armies, and the I are sketched by Sir Walter with admirable bulwark of her throne, the once dreaded I graphic power ; every movement and every Hon of the Mediterranean! | battle are most skilfully traced and connect ed : and as he has narrated them, they are Napoleon.—The second number of the I adapted to impart the highest ideas of Bona American Quarterly Review, published injparte’s talents as, a general and political glittered with marble whiteness from among the flaxen locks by which they were shaded. He turned away his head and concealed his confusion, and he had unconsciously fell over the instrument: it emitted a tremulous strain of melody, and the minstrel, as if gath ering courage from the sound, sang a sim ple air which served more forcibly to en chain the attention of the Emperor. As if 4 And what, think you, the wretch de serves, who could heap such aggravated miseries on the head of a brave and inno cent man ?” asked the Emperor, in a low and hollow tone. 4 The fate he has doubtless met in the field—disgrace, overthrow, and death!’ re turned the pirate. 4 He lives to fulfil the latter part of your Philadelphjb, contains among other interest- manager. The Duke of Wellington is said yng articles, a‘Review/Of that part of Sir to have declared Yhat Sir Walter’s account Walter Scott’s Life of Napoleon, 44 in which j of the battle of Waterloo was the best he the mighty f conqueror is traced from his had seen, and v^onderfully faithful, not less birth to his decisive triumph on the field of I thanjvividly picturesque, in most ofits details. Marengo:”—we have been tempted to make J We cannot but think, that if Napoleon had a few extracts. j lived to peruse this spirited relation of his Of Napoleon, while a cadet in the Royal I first manouvres and success, he would have Military School of Brienne, the reviewer, been nearly as well satisfied ns the hero of following Sir Wafter Scott, says: 44 At the j Waterloo. All' credit is given to the supre military school, the protege displayed un-1 macy of his youthful genius, the originality common ardor and aptitude for the abstract J and felicity of his strokes, the brilliancy and sciences, and made a progress in them to j magnitude of his triumphs : and to the per- which the strongest testimony was borne in j sonal valour and presence of mind with the official reports of the institution. His j which his evolutions and critical situations habits were thane of a recluse and severe stu- as a commander were accompanied.”—Al~ dent; but in the languages, modem and J bany Gazette. ancient, He was not at all conspicuous for his proficiency. Our author asserts that he never I Curious Piece of Mechanism.—The fol- acquiredtheartofwritingorspellingFrench.’l lowing account of a curious piece of me After the fall of Robespierre, Bonaparte I chanism, is taken from a Persian manu was superseded, and Sir Walter Scott says, I script,,entitled “The History of Jerusa- “ In May, 1795, he came to Paris, to soli-j lem.” It is an account of. the throne of cit employment in his profession. He fo nd | King Solomon, and we think, surpasses any under the influence of magic, he gazed with sentence,’ replied the Emperor, rising and intense interest on the dark browed chief, | approaching the outlaw. 4 Philip of Co- beam, and on the fair haired youth beside him. My native land! my native land t How many tender tins, Cobnoeted thy distant strand, . Call forth my heavy sighs. The nigged rock—the mountain stream— The hoary pine-tree’s shade; Where, often in the noon-tide be ■ A hapjty child, I strayed ! X think of thee, when early light Is trembling on the hill; I think of thee at deep midnight, When all is-dark and still > I think of those whom I shall see On the fair earth no more ; And wish in vain for wings to flee Back to thy ranch-loved shore. logne ! do you remember this face ! Can you recognise, in a nameless fugitive, your ungenerous persecutor, Otho of Germany ? Sheath in this breast your sword, and sate your indignation on the author of your 1 wrongs.’—He threw his sword at the pir- feet, and stood before the astonished ate’s assembly with folded arms and downcast eyes. A hollow murmur passed from man to man, and, 4 down wilh the tyrant!’ trem- j bled on every lip, but no sound was audible. The pirate sprang to his feet—a dark red I flush was on his face—his lips quivered—a fierce warfare of passion shook his frame. [ 4 Tyrant!’ he exclaimed, 4 the hour of retri- The pirate cast a look of tender and me- butive justice is at length mine ! But for lancholy regard on the minstrel, and Otho thee, 1 had been the pride and ornament of was on the point of expressing the pleasure the land that gave me birth; and had reap- bis enchanting voice had afforded him, when ed, in honourable warfare, immortal gloiy. the outlaw to whpm he had first spoken, sud- Your unrelenting cruelty drove me to the asked, in an imperious tone, * Sir Knight, rocks and fastnesses of these islands, and whence came you ?” made me the companion of outlawed men, a A dark frown rested on the brow of Otho, I pirate on the deep. Die ! and let my crimes as he replied, in a tone equally haughty— my lost honour be visited on thee l* His * From the field of Bu«entelle.’—How went! sword flushed over his head.—' Hold !* ex- the battle?’— 4 It was not the sword of thejelaimed the minstrel boy, casting himself at mighty, nor the force of the strong, that [the feet of the pirate and staying' the uplift- won the field,’ returned the Emperor; 4 trea-led weapon ; ‘raise not your hand against chery prevailed.’— 4 How !’ exclaimed the j the Lord’s anointed ! He is your prince— himself unfriended and indigent in the city I piece of mechanism produced in modern of which he was at no distant period to be I times, notwithstanding the wonderful mven- ruler. Some individuals, however, assisted j tions and improvements which have lately him/ and among others, the celebrated per- j taken place in every branch of science, former Talma, who had known him while at I This famous throne was the work of the the military school, and even then entertain-1 Demon Sakhura; it was called Koukubal ed high expectations of the part in life which I Jinna. The beauty of this throne has never was to be played by k lendit Buonaparte.' I been sufficiently described; the following “ On the other hand/as a favour of the I are, therefore, the particulars :— Jacobins, his solicitations for employment I “The side»s of it were of pure gold, the feet were resolutely, opposed by a person oflof emerald 'and rubies, intermixed with considerable influence. Aubry, an old offi- {pearls, each of which was as big as an os cerof artillery, president of the military I trich’s egg. The throne had seven steps committee/placed himself in strong opposi- on each side were delineated orchards ful tion to his pretensions. Jof trees, the branches of which were com “Meantime his situation became daily posed of precious stones representing fruit more unpleasant. He solicited Barras and I ripe and unripe; on the tops of the trees Freron, who as Therniidorieus, had preser-1 were to be seen figures of beautiful plu ved their credit, for occupation in almost any I maged birds, particularly the peacock, the line of his profession, and even negotiated [ etaub, and the kurges. All these birds for permission to go into the Turkish ser- were hollowed within artificially, so as oc- vice to train the Mussulmans to the use of I casionally to utter a thousand melodious artillery. A fanciful imagination may pur- notes, such as the ear of mortal has never sue him to the rank of Pacha, or higher: | heard. On the first step were delineated for go where he would, he could not have vine branches, having bunches of grapes, remained in mediocrity. His own ideas had I composed of various sorts of precious stones a similar tendency. * How strange,’ said fashioned in such a manner as to represent he, 4 it would be, if a little Corsican officer I the different colours of purple, violet, green, of artillery, were to become a king of Jeru-|and red, so as to render the appearance 4 How!’ exclaimed the -The following amu- from a forth-coming A Clerical Legend.- sing anecdote is taken work, by the author of the 44 Traditions of Edinburg,” to be entitled, “ The Picture of Scotland.”— 44 Murk inch, a little inland pa rish village in Fife, near the road between Kirkaldy and Cupar, derives a sort of inter est from a legend connecting it with the name of one of our most distinguished sove reigns. James Y. in the course of a pedes trian tour through Fife, is said to have come in disguise to Markinch, and to have called at the only place of entertainment then in the village, for the purpose of refreshing himself. The landlady had only one room, and that was engaged by the clergyman and schoolmaster of the parish; but the king having no objection to the society of two such respectable persons, did not scruple to enter and seat himself at-the same table. When some time, and a good deal of liquor had been spent, the reckoning was called, and, as Janies had not been present during above a third of the whole sederunt, the schoolmaster proposed that he should pay a smaller share accordingly. But this way of reasoning did not satisfy the clergyman, who vociferated that it had been the custom of ’Vlarjtinch, from time immemorial, to pay his:z:lety-pigaiety, without regard to the quantity of liquor which each individual might have drunk. The schoolmaster at tempted to convince his boon companion of the selfishness and absurdity of this system, and asserted the impropriety of carrying it into practice in the present case, inasmuch as the person in question was n stranger, and should be treated with hospitality in- steadyrf injustice: “ No, no, sir,” pawled the priest^ 44 higglety-pigglety’s the y! ordYn Markinch, and will be, as lang as I hae ony thing to do w’it. 4 Week weel,’ said the king, who had not yet spoken. 4 higglety- pigglety be’tlaying down his whole share of the reckoning. His majesty immediate ly after took measuies to put the school master and minister of Markinch upon an equal footing as to salary, at once to reward the generosity of the former, and to punish the sordidness of the latter. It is further said, that the salaries of these two parocbhl dignitaries continued nearly equal till times not long gone by. and that the schoolmaster of Markinch is still rather better off than mo.'4 of his brethren in that respect.—Lon. paper. salem.* He was offered a command in La I real fruit. * On the se< Vandee, which he declined to accept, and I side of the throne^ werd was finally named to command a brigade of|ft#iect, as fife,J41 artillery in Holland.” raid. TWiialure of this remark He was afterwards appointed to command was such, that when the the conventional forces, from which ho was | placed his foot upon tfc promoted to general of tho interior. Th< author connects, wit&th£ history of Napo- r _ ^ for L On the Payment of Debts.—There are too many persons who contract debts, without perceiving any means of payment to be in their power. Those who transgress in this manner, feel satisfied they do not see them selves to be unable to pay. Were they strict ly honest, however, they would take effec tual care to see whether they were able or not. Often by overrating their property, their efforts, or the markets, they feel a loose conviction that they shall possess this pow er ; but they take no pains to render the fact certain, or even probable. We are bound before we become willing to receive our neighbor’s property, to know that we have means clearly probable of paying him, otherwise we wantonly subject him to the loss of it, and differ very little, as moral be ings, from thieves and robbers. Another transgression of the same nature is, neglecting to pay our debts at the time they become due. There are many persopa whose general character as Christians, is: fair, who yet, in this respect, are extremely deserving of censure. They contract debts, which they engage to discharge within a giv en time, This time is therefore a part oF the contract, a ground on which the bargain is made ; a condition on which the price was calculated. This obvious truth is under stood hy all men; and makes part of thi* language ofevery bargain in which credit is given. To the expectation formed hy the' creditor of receiving his debt at the time- specifiied, the debtor has voluntarily given birth, fit is an expectation, therefore, which he is bound to fulfil:,If he does not take } m. every in his power to fulfill. If j|e does not take eve'rv lawful hid power to fulfil it, or if he does it when it is in Ids power, he j§ fraud; of depriving his n haps by design, but by a gui of a part