TO THE DEAD. How many now are dead to me How many are alive to me Who crumble in their graves, nor see That sickening, sinking look, which we Beyond the blue seas, far away, Where stone on stone shut out the day, In his lone dungeon shone. Dead to the world, alive to me, Though months and years have pass'd; In a lone hour, his sigh to me Comes like the hum of some wild bee, And then his form and face I see, As when I saw him last. And one with a bright lip, and cheek, How pale the bloom of his smooth cheek! And his eye, for it did not see. Then for the living be the tomb, And for the dead the smile; Engrave oblivion on the tomb Of pulseless life and deadly bloom,— Dim is such glare: but bright the gloom Around the funeral pile. THE DEEP. THERE's beauty in the deep: And, though the lights shine bright on high, There's beauty in the deep. There's music in the deep:- There's quiet in the deep:- And earth-born whirlwinds wake the wave; Here, far beneath the tainted foam That frets above our peaceful home; We dream in joy, and wake in love, Nor know the rage that yells above. There's quiet in the deep. MR. MERRY'S LAMENT FOR "LONG TOM." "Let us think of them that sleep, THY cruise is over now, Thou art anchor'd by the shore, Hear the storm around thee roar; Death has shaken out the sands of thy glass. The sea-grass round thy bier Where thy manly limbs abide; But the granite rock thy tombstone shall be. Over thee. At the piping of all hands, When the judgment signal's spreadWhen the islands, and the lands, And the seas give up their dead, And the south and the north shall come; Poor Toм. THE INDIAN SUMMER. WHAT is there saddening in the autumn leaves? Have they that "green and yellow melancholy" That the sweet poet spake of?-Had he seen Our variegated woods, when first the frost Turns into beauty all October's charmsWhen the dread fever quits us-when the storms Of the wild equinox, with all its wet, Has left the land, as the first deluge left it, With a bright bow of many colours hung Upon the forest tops-he had not sighed. The moon stays longest for the hunter now: The trees cast down their fruitage, and the blithe And busy squirrel hoards his winter store: While man enjoys the breeze that sweeps along The bright, blue sky above him, and that bends Magnificently all the forest's pride, Or whispers through the evergreens, and asks, "What is there saddening in the autumn leaves?" STANZAS. THE dead leaves strew the forest walk, I learn'd a clear and wild-toned note, There perch'd, and raised her song for me. Too mild the breath of southern sky, Too fresh the flower that blushes there, Finds leaves too green, and buds too fair; No mountain top, with sleety hair, Go there, with all the birds, and seek A happier clime, with livelier flight, THE STORM OF WAR. O! ONCE was felt the storm of war! And waves around it howl; And yonder sail'd the merchant ship, That loved the might of the blackening storm, The stream, that was a torrent once, The sword is broken, and the spear Is but a pruning-hook. The mother chides her truant boy, And keeps him well from harm; Another breeze is on the sea, A banner bright and fair. Each star that decks it pure and bright, Above the rolling deep. THE GUERILLA. THOUGH friends are false, and leaders fail, Is the wild Guerilla's curse. No trumpets range us to the fight: No signal sound of drum Tells to the foe, that, in their might, The hostile squadrons come. No sunbeam glitters on our spears, No warlike tramp of steeds Gives warning-for the first that hears Shall be the first that bleeds. The night-breeze calls us from our bed, And darkness gives the signal dread "T is clear in the sweet vale below, The skies shine mildly on the foe, But lour upon us still. This gathering storm shall quickly burst, And spread its terrors far, And at its front we'll be the first, And with it go to war. O! the mountain peak shall safe remain- With ruin shall run wild; THE SEA-BIRD'S SONG. On the deep is the mariner's danger, Lone looker on despair, The only witness there. Who watches their course, who so mildly Who hovers on high o'er the lover, And her who has clung to his neck? Whose wing is the wing that can cover, With its shadow, the foundering wreck? "Tis the sea-bird, &c. My eye in the light of the billow, My wing on the wake of the wave, My foot on the iceberg has lighted, When hoarse the wild winds veer about, My eye, when the bark is benighted, Sees the lamp of the light-house go out. I'm the sea-bird, sea-bird, sea-bird, Lone looker on despair; The sea-bird, sea-bird, sea-bird, The only witness there. TO THE DAUGHTER OF A FRIEND. I PRAY thee, by thy mother's face, Where thy young head did lie; Is not the nestling, when it wakes, Is it not like the parent? Then ROBERT C. SANDS. [Born, 1799. Died, 1832.] THE history of American literature, for the period which has already passed, will contain the names of few men of greater genius, or more general learning, than ROBERT C. SANDS. His life has been written so well by his intimate friend, GuLIAN C. VERPLANCK, LL. D., that I shall attempt only to present an abstract of the narrative of that accomplished scholar and critic. SANDS was born in the city of New York, (where his father, who had been distinguished for his patriotism during the revolutionary struggle, was an eminent merchant,) on the eleventh of May, 1799. At a very early age he was remarkable for great quickness of apprehension, and facility of acquiring knowledge. When seven years old, he began to study the Latin language, and at thirteen he was admitted to the sophomore class of Columbia College. He had already, under Mr. FINDLAY, of Newark, and the Reverend Mr. WHELPLEY, of New York, made great progress in classical knowledge; and while in the college, which had long been distinguished for sound and accurate instruction in the dead languages, he excelled all his classmates in ancient learning, and was equally successful in the mathematics and other branches of study. In his second collegiate year, in conjunction with his friend EASTBURN, and some other students, he established a periodical entitled "The Moralist," and afterward another, called "Academic Recreations," of both of which he wrote the principal contents. He was graduated in 1815, and soon after became a student in the law-office of DAVID B. OGDEN, one of the most distinguished advocates of the time. He pursued his legal studies with great ardour; his course of reading was very extensive; and he became not only familiar with the more practical part of professional knowledge, but acquired a relish for the abstruse doctrines and subtle reasonings of the ancient common law. Still he found time for the study of the classics; and, in company with two or three friends, read several of the most difficult of the Greek authors, exactly and critically. His love of composition continued to grow upon him. He wrote on all subjects, and for all purposes; and, in addition to essays and verses, on topics of his own choice, volunteered to write orations for the commencement displays of young graduates, verses for young lovers, and even sermons for young divines. Several of the latter, written in an animated style, were much admired, when delivered in the pulpit with good emphasis and discretion, to congregations who little suspected to whom they were indebted for their edification. One of them, at least, has been printed under the name of the clergyman by whom it was delivered. In 1817 he published a poem, which he had begun and in great part written four years before. It was called "The Bridal of Vaumond," and was a metrical romance, founded on the same legend of the transformation of a decrepit and miserable wretch into a youthful hero, by compact with the infernal powers, which forms the groundwork of BYRON's "Deformed Transformed." It was during the period of these studies, that he and three of his friends, of as many different professions, formed an association, of a somewhat remarkable character, under the name of the Literary Confederacy. The number was limited to four; and they bound themselves to preserve a friendly communication in all the vicissitudes of life, and to endeavour, by all proper means, to advance their mutual and individual interest, to advise each other on every subject, and to receive with good temper the rebuke or admonition which might thus be given. They proposed to unite, from time to time, in literary publications, covenanting solemnly that no matter hostile to the great principles of religion or morals should be published by any member. This compact was most faithfully kept to the time of SANDS's death, though the primary objects of it were gradually given up, as other duties engrossed the attention of its members. In the first year of its existence, the confederacy contributed largely to several literary and critical gazettes, besides publishing in one of the daily papers of the city a series of essays, under the title of the Amphilogist," and a second under that of the "Neologist," which attracted much attention, and were very widely circulated and republished in the newspapers of the day. SANDS wrote a large portion of these, both in prose and verse. His friend EASTBURN had now removed to Bristol, Rhode Island, where, after studying divinity for some time under the direction of Bishop GRISWOLD, he took orders, and soon after settled in Virginia. A regular correspondence was kept up between the friends; and the letters that have been preserved are filled with the evidence of their literary industry. EASTBURN had undertaken a new metrical version of the Psalms, which the pressure of his clerical duties and his untimely death prevented him from ever completing. SANDS was led by curiosity, as well as by his intimacy with EASTBURN, to acquire some knowledge of the Hebrew. It was not very profound, but it enabled him to try his skill at the same translation; and he from time to time sent his friend a Psalm paraphrased in verse. But amid their severer studies and their literary amusements, they were engaged in a bolder poctical enterprise. This was a romantic poem founded on the history of PHILIP, the celebrated sachem hopes and an ardent love of the learning of the law. His first attempt as an advocate was, however, unsuccessful, and he was disheartened by the result. Though he continued the business of an attorney, he made no second attempt of consequence before a jury, and after a few years he | gradually withdrew himself from the profession. During this period he persevered in his law read with the Latin poets, and the "grave, lofty tragedians" of Greece; acquiring an intimacy such as professors might have envied, with the ancient languages and learning. He had early learned French, and was familiar with its copious and elegant literature; but he never much admired it, and in his multifarious literary conversation and authorship, rarely quoted or alluded to a French author, except for facts. He now acquired the Italian, and read carefully and with great admiration all its great writers, from DANTE to ALFIERI. His versions and imitations of POLITIAN, MONTI, and METASTASIO, attest how fully he entered into their spirit. Some time after he acquired the Spanish language very critically, and, after studying its more celebrated writers, read very largely all the Spanish historians and documents he could find touching American history. In order to complete his acquaintance with the cognate modern languages of Latin origin, he some years later acquired the Portuguese, and read such of its authors as he could procure. of the Pequods, and leader of the great Indian wars against the New England colonists in 1665 and 1676. It was planned by EASTBURN, during his residence in the vicinity of Mount Hope, in Rhode Island, the ancient capital of the Pequod race, where the scene is laid. In the year following, when he visited New York, the plan of the story was drawn up in conjunction with his friend. "We had then," said SANDS, "read nothing on the sub-ing, and renewed and extended his acquaintance ject; and our plot was formed from a hasty glance into a few pages of HUBBARD'S Narrative. After EASTBURN's return to Bristol, the poem was written, according to the parts severally assigned, and transmitted, reciprocally, in the course of correspondence. It was commenced in November, 1817, and finished before the summer of 1818, except the concluding stanzas of the sixth canto, which were added after Mr. EASTBURN left Bristol. As the fable was defective, from our ignorance of the subject, the execution was also, from the same cause, and the hasty mode of composition, in every respect imperfect. Mr. EASTBURN was then preparing to take orders; and his studies, with that view, engrossed his attention. He was ordained in October, 1818. Between that time and the period of his going to Accomack county, Virginia, whence he had received an invitation to take charge of a congregation, he transcribed the first two cantos of this poem, with but few material variations, from the first collating copy. The labours of his ministry left him no time even for his most delightful amusement. He had made no further progress in the correction of the work when he returned to New York, in July, 1819. His health was then so much impaired, that writing of any kind was too great a labour. He had packed up the manuscripts, intending to finish his second copy in Santa Cruz, whither it was recommended to him to go, as the last resource to recruit his exhausted constitution." He died on the fourth day of his passage, on the second of December, 1819. The work, thus left imperfect, was revised, arranged, and completed, with many additions, by SANDS. It was introduced by a proem, in which the surviving poet mourned, in noble and touching strains, the accomplished friend of his youth. The work was published under the title of "Yamoyden," at New York, in 1820. It unquestionably shows some marks of the youth of its authors, besides other imperfections arising from the mode of its composition, which could not fail to prove a serious impediment to a clear connection of the plot, and a vivid and congruous conception of all the characters. Yet it has high merit in various ways. Its descriptions of natural scenery are alike accurate and beautiful. Its style is flexible, flowing, and poetical. It is rich throughout with historical and antiquarian knowledge of Indian history and tradition; and every thing in the customs, manners, superstitions, and story of the aborigines of New England, that could be applied to poetical purposes, is used with skill, judgment, and taste. In 1820, SANDS was admitted to the bar, and opened an office in the city of New York. He entered upon his professional career with high In 1822 and 1823 he wrote many articles for "The Literary Review," a monthly periodical then published in New York, which received great increase of reputation from his contributions. In the winter of 1823-4, he and some friends published seven numbers of a sort of mock-magazine, entitled "The St. Tammany Magazine." Here he gave the reins to his most extravagant and happiest humour, indulging in parody, burlesque, and grotesque satire, thrown off in the gayest mood and with the greatest rapidity, but as good-natured as satire and parody could well be. In May, 1824, "The Atlantic Magazine" was established in New York, and placed under his charge. At the end of six months he gave up this work; but when it changed its name, and in part its character, and became the New York Review, he was reengaged as an editor, and assisted in conducting it until 1827. During this same period he assisted in preparing and publishing a digest of equity cases, | and also in editing some other legal compilations, enriching them with notes of the American decisions. These publications were, it is true, not of a high class of legal authorship; but they show professional reading and knowledge, as well as the ready versatility of his mind. He had now become an author by profession, and looked to his pen for support, as heretofore for fame or for amusement. When, therefore, an offer of a liberal salary was made him as an assistant editor of the "New York Commercial Advertiser," a long-established and well-known daily evening paper, he accepted it, and continued his connection with that journal until his death. |