lished, from the original manuscript in my possession, by the Pennsylvania Historical Society, in 1848. It is exceedingly curious. The author

says:

"I have often travelled up and down, And made my observations on each town; The truth of matters I well understand,

And thereoy know how to describe this land;"

and after nearly a thousand lines in this style gives us the following pleasant picture of the state of the country:

"Poor people here stand not in fear

The nuptial knot to tie;

The working hand in this good land
Can never want supply.

"If children dear increase each year
So do our crops likewise,

Of stock and trade such gain is made
That none do want supplies.

"Whoe'er thou art, take in good part

These lines which I have penned;
It is true love which me doth move
Them unto thee to send.

Some false reports hinder resorts
Of those who would come here;
Therefore, in love, I could remove

That which puts them in fear.
"Here many say they bless the day
That they did see PENN's wood;
To cross the ocean back home again
They do not think it good.

"But here they 'll bide and safely hide

Whilst Europe broils in war;

The fruit of the curse, which may prove worse
Than hath been yet, by far.

"For why should we, who quiet be,

Return into the noise

Of fighting men, which now and then
Great multitudes destroys?

"1 bid farewell to all who dwell

In England or elsewhere,
Wishing good speed when they indeed

Set forward to come here."

About the year 1695 Mr. HENRY BROOKE, a son of Sir HENRY BROOKE, of York, was appointed to a place in the customs, at Lewiston, in Delaware, and for many years was much in the best society of Philadelphia. One of his poetical pieces is a "Discourse concerning Jests," addressed to RoBERT GRACIE, whom FRANKLIN describes as a young man of fortune-generous, animated, and witty-fond of epigrams, and more fond of his Liends. A specimen is here quoted:

"I prithee, Boв, forbear, or if thou must
Be talking still, yet talk not as thou do'st:
Be silent or speak well; and oh, detest
That darling bosom sin of thine, a jest.
Believe me, 't is a fond pretence to wit,
To say what's forced, unnatural, unfit,
Frigid, ill-timed, absurd, rude. petulant-

Tis so,' you say, 'all this I freely grant;'
Yet such were those smart turns of conversation,
When late our Kentish friends, in awkward fashion,
Grinned out their joy, and I my indignation.
Oh, how I hate that time! all, all that feast,
When, fools or mad, we scoured the city last!
All the false humour of our giddy club,

The tread, the watch, the windows, door, or tub.....
These, though my hate-and these Gon knows I hate
Much more than JONES or STORY do debate

More than all shapes of action, corporation, Remonstrances, a Whig or Tory nation, Reviews, or churches, in or out of fashion, The BRADBURYS, DINTONS, RIDPATHS, Observators,' Or true-born DANIELS, unpoetic satyrs,From wine's enchanting power have some excuse; But for a man in 's wits, unpoisoned with the juice, To indulge so wilfully in empty prate, And sell rich time at such an under-rate, This hath no show nor colour of defence, And wants so much of wit, it fails of common sense." The entire performance is in the same respect able style: It is possible that one of the Kentish friends" referred to was the author of "The Invention of Letters," of whom some account will be given on another page. That the excellences of BROOKE were appreciated by his literary associates is evident from a passage in a satire entitled "The Wits and Poets of Pennsylvania,"→

"In BROOKE'S capacious heart the muses sit. Enrobed with sense polite and poignant wit."

When FRANKLIN arrived in Philadelphia, in 1723, there were several persons in the city distinguished for talents and learning. ANDREW HAMILTON, the celebrated lawyer, and JAMES LOGAN, whose translation of CICERO'S "Cato Major" is the most elegant specimen we have of FRANKLIN'S printing, were now old men; but THOMAS GODFREY, the inventor of the quadrant, JOHN BARTRAM, who won from LINN.EUS the praise of being the "greatest natural botanist in the world," and JOHN MORGAN, afterward a member of the Royal Society, were just coming for ward; and there were a large number of persons, for so small a town, who wrote clever verses and prose essays. GEORGE WEBB, an Oxford scholar working in the printing office of KEIMER, whose eccentric history is given in FRANKLIN'S Memoirs, was as confident as any succeeding Philadelphia writer of the destined supremacy of the city, and in a poem published in 1727 gives this expression to his sanguine anticipations:

""T is here APOLLO does erect his throne:
This his Parnassus, this his Helicon;
Here solid sense does every bosom warm —
Here noise and nonsense have forgot to charm.
Thy seers, how cautious! and how gravely wise
Thy hopeful youth in emulation rise,
Who, if the wishing muse inspired does sing,
Shall liberal arts to such perfection bring,
Europe shall mourn her ancient fame declined,
And Philadelphia be the Athens of mankind."

In the same production he implores the goddess of numbers so to aid him that he may sing the attractions of his theme in verses

"Such as from BRIENTNALL'S pen were wont to flow, Or more judicious TAYLOR's used to show." FRANKLIN describes BRIENTNALL as "a great lover of poetry, reading every thing that come in his way, and writing tolerably well; ingenious in many little trifles, and of an agreeable conversation." JACOB TAYLOR, schoolmaster, physician, surveyor, almanac-maker, and poet,

"With years oppressed, and compassed with woes," gave to the public the last and best of his works, · Pennsylvania," a descriptive poem, in 1728. In

the same year THOMAS MAKIN, who nearly half a century before had been an usher in the school kept by the famous GEORGE KEITH, dedicated to JAMES LOGAN a Latin poem called "Encomium Pennsylvaniæ," and in the year following another, "In laudes Pennsylvaniæ," of both of which PROUD, the historian, gives specimens and translations.

Among FRANKLIN's more intimate associates, was JAMES RALPH, a young printer, characterized by him as "ingenious, genteel in his manners, and extremely eloquent." He had been a schoolmaster in Maryland, and a clerk in Philadelphia, and now had such confidence in his literary abilities that he was disposed to abandon the pursuit of printing entirely for that of authorship. CHARLES OSBORNE, another acquaintance, endeavoured to dissuade him from attempting a literary life, assuring him that his capacities were better suited for his trade; but it was in vain, and FRANKLIN soon after assisted in a little scheme of deception, the result of which confirmed him in all the suggestions of his vanity. FRANKLIN, RALPH, OsBORNE, and JOSEPH WATSON, agreed to write verses for each other's criticism, as a means of mutual improvement; and as FRANKLIN had no inclination for the business, he was persuaded to offer as his own a piece by RALPH, who believed that OSBORNE had depreciated his talents from personal envy. The stratagem succeeded; the production was warmly applauded by OSBORNE, and RALPH enjoyed his triumph. RALPH accompanied FRANKLIN to England, and was very badly treated by him there, as FRANKLIN admits. He became a prolific author, in prose and verse. His longest poem, "Zeuma, or the Love of Liberty," was partly written in Philadelphia, and was first published in London, in 1729. A few lines

from it will sufficiently display his capacities in this way:

"Tlascala's vaunt, great ZAGNAR'S martial son,
Extended on the rack, no more complains
That realms are wanting to employ his sword:
But, circled with innumerable ghosts,
Who print their keenest vengeance on his soul,
For all the wrongs, and slaughters of his reign,
Howls out repentance to the deafen'd skies,
And shakes hell's concave with continual groans."

In the following fifteen years he wrote several plays, some of which were acted at Drury Lane. Among his shorter poems were two called "Cynthia" and "Night," and a satire in which he abused POPE, SWIFT, and GAY. This procured him the Jistinction of a notice in "The Dunciad,"

"Silence, ye wolves! while RALPH to Cynthia' howls, And makes 'Night' hideous: answer him, ye owls!" His book on "The Use and Abuse of Parliaments" was much talked of, and his "History of England during this Reign of William the Third" is praised by HALLAM as "accurate and faithful," and led Fox to refer to him as "a historian of great acuteness and diligence." His last work was "The Case of Authors stated, with regard to Booksellers, the Stage, and the Public." He died on the twenty-fourth of January, 1762.

The poems written by FRANKLIN himself are not very poetical. The best of them is the amus. ing little piece entitled

"PAPER.

"SOME wit of old-such wits of old there were--
Whose hints showed meaning, whose allusions care,
By one brave stroke to mark all human kind,
Called clear blank paper every infant mind,
Where still, as opening sense her dictates wrote,
Fair virtue put a seal, or vice a blot.

"The thought was happy, pertinent, and true;
Methinks a genius might the plan pursue.
I can you pardon my presumption?-I,
No wit, no genius, yet for once will try.
"Various the papers various wants produce―
The wants of fashion, elegance, and use;
Men are as various; and, if right I scan,
Each sort of paper represents some man.
"Pray, note the fop-half powder and half lace-
Nice as a bandbox were his dwelling-place;
He's the gilt paper, which apart you store,
And lock from vulgar hands in the scrutoire.
"Mechanics, servants, farmers, and so forth,
Are copy paper, of inferior worth;
Less prized, more useful, for your desk decreed,
Free to all pens, and prompt at every need.

"The wretch whom avarice bids to pinch and spar
Starve, cheat, and pilfer, to enrich an heir,
Is coarse brown paper; such as pedlers choose
To wrap up wares, which better men will use.

"Take next the miser's contrast, who destroys Health, fane and fortune, in a round of joys. Will any paper match him? Yes, throughout, He's a true sinking paper, past all doubt.

"The retail politician's anxious thought
Deems this side always right, and that stark naught;
He foams with censure with applause he raves —
A dupe to rumours, and a stool of knaves:
He'll want no type his weakness to proclaim,
While such a thing as fools-cap has a name.

"The hasty gentleman whose blood runs high,
Who picks a quarrel, if you step awry,
Who can't a jest, or hint, or look endure:
What is he? What? touch-paper to be sure.

"What are the poets, take them as they fall,
Good, bad, rich, poor, much read, not read at all?
Them and their works in the same class you'll find;
They are the mere waste paper of mankind.

"Observe the maiden, innocently sweet,
She's fair white paper, an unsullied sheet;
On which the happy man, whom fate ordains,
May write his name, and take her for his pains.

"One instance more, and only one, I'll bring; 'Tis the great man, who scorns a little thingWhose thoughts, whose deeds, whose maxims are his own, Formed on the feelings of his heart alone: True, genuine royal paper is his breast; Of all the kinds most precious, purest, best."

The "General Magazine," published by FRANKLIN, from January to June, in 1741, contained a few original and a much larger number of selected poeins, most of the latter being from the "Virginia Gazette." The American Magazine, and Monthly Chronicle for the British Colonies," ex tablished by WILLIAM BRADFORD, a nephew of the first printer west of Boston, and published for twelve months, was a periodical of far higher character than FRANKLIN'S, or indeed than any that had yet been attempted on the continent. In the preface the editor says of his contributors

"Some are grave and serious, while others are gay and facetious; some have a turn for matters of state and government, while others are led to the study of commerce, agriculture, or the mechanic arts; some indulge themselves in the belles-lettres, and in productions of art and fancy, while others are wrapt up in speculation and wholly beset on the abstruser parts of philosophy and science." The principal poetical contributors to the "American Magazine" were an anonymous writer, of Kent, in Maryland, whose name I have not been able to discover, and JOSEPH SHIPPEN, THOMAS GODFREY, NATHANIEL EVANS, FRANCIS HOPKINSON, and JOHN BEVERIDGE, the professor of ancient languages in the Philadelphia college.

The anonymous writer here mentioned was the son of an officer distinguished in the military service, in Ireland, Spain, and Flanders. In early life he had been intimate with MR. POPE, upon whose death, in 1744, he wrote a pastoral, which makes between two and three hundred lines, besides numerous learned notes. Anticipating BISHOP BERKLEY'S famous verses on the prospect of the arts in America, he says in his invocation:

"Pierian nymphs that haunt Sicilian plains,
And first inspired to sing in rural strains,
A western course has pleased you all along:
Greece, Rome, and Britain, flourish all in song.
Keep on your way, and spread a glorious fame;
Around the earth let all admire your name.
Chuse in our plains or forests soft retreats;
For here the muses boast no antient seats.
Here fertile fields, and fishy streams abound;
Nothing is wanting but poetic ground.

Bring me that pipe with which ALEXIS charm'd
The eastern world, and every bosom warm'd.
Our western climes shall henceforth own your power;
THETIS shall hear it from her wat'ry bower;
Even PHOEBUS listen as his chariot flies,
And smile propitious from his flaming skies.
"Haste, lovely nymphs! and quickly come away,
Our sylvan gods lament your long delay;
The stately caks that dwell on Delaware,
Rear their tall heads to view you from afar;
The naiads summon all their scaly crew,
And at Henlopen anxious wait for you.

Haste, lovely nymphs! and quickly reach our shore;
Th' impatient river heeds his tides no more,
Forsakes his banks, and where he joins the main,
Heaps waves on waves to usher in your train.
"But hark! they come! the dryads crowd the shore,
The waters rise, I hear the billows roar!
Hoarse Delaware the joyful tidings brings,
And all his swans. transported, clap their wings.
Our mountains ring with all their savage host-
Thrice welcome, lovely nymphs, to India's coast!
Not more Parnassian rocks Phoebus admire,
Nor Thraclan mountains ORPHEUS' tuneful lyre;
Not more sad lovers court the darkling note
Of Phinela's mournful warbling throat;
Not more the morning lark delights the swains,
Than you, sweet maids, our Pennsylvania plains!"

He had recommended to Mr. POPE the discovery of printing as a subject worthy of his genius, and when that poet died, without having made use of the suggestion, he wrote from the banks of the Delaware, in 1749, his own "Poem on the Invenion of Letters," which is inscribed to Mr. RICHARDSON, "the author of Sir Charles Grandison,' and other works for the promotion of religion, vir

tue, and polite manners, in a corrupted age," whom he describes as "himself the Grandison he paints:'

"These lays, ye Great! to RICHARDSON belong;
His Art and Virtues have inspired the song.
Forgive the bard-who dares transfer, from you,
A tribute to superior merit due-
Who, midst war's tumults, in flagitious times,
And regions distant from maternal climes,
Industriously obscure, to heaven resign'd,
Salutes the friend and patron of mankind."

Colonel JOSEPH SHIPPEN, who in 1759 wrote "The Glooms of Ligonier," an amatory song much in vogue for a quarter of a century, was the author of the following early recognition of the genius of BENJAMIN WEST:*

"ON SEEING A PORTRAIT OF MISS, BY MR. WEST. "SINCE GUIDO'S skilful hand, with mimic art,

Could form and animate so sweet a face,
Can nature still superior charms impart,
Cr warmest fancy add a single grace?
"The enliven'd tints in due proportion rise,

Her polish'd cheeks with deep vermilion glow;
The shining moisture swells into her eyes,
And from such lips nectareous sweets must flow.
"The easy attitude, the graceful dress,

The soft expression of the perfect whole,
Both GUIDO's judgment and his skill confess,
Informing canvas with a living soul.
"How fixt, how steady, yet how bright a ray

Of modest lustre beams in every smile!
Such smiles as must resistless charms convey,
Enliven'd by a heart devoid of guile.
"Yet sure his flattering pencil's unsincere,

His fancy takes the place of bashful truth,
And warm imagination pictures here

The pride of beauty and the bloom of youth. "Thus had I said, and thus, deluded, thought, Had lovely STELLA still remained unseen, Whose grace and beauty, to perfection brought, Make every imitative art look mean." THOMAS GODFREY, a son of the inventor of the quadrant, was esteemed a prodigy of youthful genius. He was a lieutenant in the expedition against Fort Du Quesne in 1759, and on the disbanding of the colonial forces went to New Providence, and afterward to North Carolina, where he died, on the third of August, 1763, in the twentyseventh year of his age. His poems were published in Philadelphia in 1765, in a quarto volume of two hundred and thirty pages. His "Prince of Parthia" was the first tragedy written in America. The Court of Fancy," which the editor of the "American Magazine" thought evinced "an elevated and daring genius," is in smooth but feeble heroic verse, and betrays very little inventive capacity. Some of his shorter poems are more striking. The following is from an "Ode to Wine:"

"Haste, ye mortals! leave your sorrow;

Let pleasure crown to-day- to-morrow,

*In the "American Magazine" for February, 1758, oc curs, probably, the first paragraph ever printed in commen. dation of the genius of WEST. The editor says, introducing the above poem on one of his portraits:

"We are glad of this opportunity of making known to the world the name of so extraordinary a genius as Mr. WEST. He was born in Chester county in this province, and without the assistance of any master, has acquired such a delicacy and correctness of expression in his paintings, joined to such a landable thirst of improvement, that we are persuaded, when he shall have obtained more experience and proper opportunities of viewing the productions of able mas ters, he will become truly eminent in his profession

Yield to fate.

Join the universal chorus-
BACCHUS reigns, ever great-
BACCHUS reigns, ever glorious-
Hark! the joyful groves rebound,
Sporting breezes catch the sound,
And tell to hill and dale around,

BACCHUS reigns! while far away,
The busy echoes die away."

One of GODFREY's most intimate friends was NATHANIEL EVANS, a native of Philadelphia, admitted to holy orders by the Bishop of London in 1765. He died in October, 1767, in the twentysixth year of his age, and his poems, few of which had been printed in his lifetime, were soon afterward by his direction collected and published under the editorial supervision of the Reverend WILLIAM SMITH, and Miss ELIZABETH GREME, subsequently so well known as Mrs. FERGUSON. EVANS was preparing a collection of his poems for the press, and had written part of the preface, in which, after having referred to the unhappy fortunes of many men of genius, he said: "Sometimes, alas! the iron hand of death cuts them suddenly off, as their beauties are just budding into existence, and leaves but the fair promise of future excellences." These were his last words; and Doctor SMITH suggests that they were so applicable to his case that he should have feared to publish them as from the mind of the deceased poet, if he had neglected to preserve the autograph to show that they had not been accommodated to that event. The most carefully finished of the pieces by EVANS is an "Ode on the Prospect of Peace," written in 1761, but several in a lighter vein were more pleasing. In the following, we have a glimpse of our great philosopher, in his middle age:

"TO BENJAMIN FRANKLIN, ESQ., LL.D. "ON HEARING HIM PLAY ON THE HARMONICA. "IN grateful wonder lost, long had we view'd Each gen'rous act thy patriot-soul pursued; Our little state resounds thy just applause, And, pleased, from thee new fame and honour draws; In thee those various virtues are combined,

That form the true preeminence of mind.
"What wonder struck us when we did survey

The lambent lightnings innocently play;

And down thy rods beheld the dreaded fire

In a swift flame descend and then expire;
While the red thunders, roaring loud around,
Burst the black clouds, and harmless smote the ground.
Blest use of art! applied to serve mankind-

The noble province of the sapient mind!

For this the soul's best faculties were given,
To trace great nature's laws from earth to heaven.

"Yet not these themes alone thy thoughts command; Each softer science owns thy fostering hand;

Aided by thee, URANIA's heavenly art
With finer raptures charms the feeling heart;
Th' Harmonica shall join the sacred choir,

Fresh transports kindle, and new joys inspire.

Hark! the soft warblings, sounding smooth and clear,
Strike with celestial ravishment the ear,
Conveying inward, as they sweetly roll,

A tide of melting music to the soul;

And sure if aught of mortal-moving strain, Can touch with joy the high angelic train, 'Tis this enchanting instrument of thine, Which speaks in accents more than half divine!" Among some trifles inscribed to Miss GREME, who had rallied him on his indisposition to marry, was a new version of the story of

"ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE.
"ORPHEUS, of old, as poets tell,
Took a fantastic trip to hell,
To seek his wife, as wisely guessing
She must be there, since she was missing.
Downward he journeyed, wonderous gay,
And, like a lark, sang all the way.
The reason was-or they belied him,
His yoke-fellow was not beside him.
Whole grottoes, as he pass'd along,
Danced to the music of his song.
So I have seen, upon the plains,
A fiddler captivate the swains,
And make them caper to his strains.
TO PLUTO'S court at last he came,
Where the god sat enthroned in flame,
And ask'd if his lost love was there-
EURYDICE, his darling fair?

The fiends, who listening round him stood,
At the odd question laugh'd aloud:
"This must some mortal madman be-
We fiends are happier far than he.'
But music's sounds o'er hell prevail;
Most mournfully he tells his tale,
Soothes with soft arts the monarch's pain,
And gets his bargain back again.

Thy prayers are heard,' grim PLUTO cries,
'On this condition take thy prize:
Turn not thine eyes upon the fair-
If once thou turn'st, she flies in air.'
In amorous chat they climb th' ascent-
ORPHEUS, as order'd, foremost went;
(Though, when two lovers downwards steer,
The man, as fit, falls in the rear;)

Soon the fond fool turns back his head-
As soon, in air, his spouse was fled!
If 't was designed, 't was wonderous well;
But, if by chance, more lucky still.
Happy the man, all must agree,
Who once from wedlock's noose gets free;
But he who from it twice is freed
Has most prodigious luck indeed!"

A portrait of EVANS, by his young friend WEST, is preserved in Philadelphia. Among the subscribers for his volume of poems, was Dr. GOLDSMITH, with whom he had probably become acquainted while visiting London for ordination.

The celebrated wit, lawyer, and statesman, FRANCIS HOPKINSON, born in 1737, made his first appearance as a poet in BRADFORD'S "American Magazine," one of his earlier contributions to which was a tribute to the genius of WOLLASTON, the painter, then living in Philadelphia, from which the following is an extract:

"To you, famed WOLLASTON, these strains belong,
And be your praise the subject of my song
When your soft pencil bids the canvas shine
With mimic life, with elegance divine,
The enraptured muse, fond to partake thy file
With equal sweetness strives to sweep the lyre,
With equal justice fain would paint your praise
And by your name immortalize her lays.

"Ofttimes with wonder and delight I stand
To view the amazing conduct of your hand.
At first unlabored sketches lightly trace
The glimmering outlines of a human face,
Then, by degrees, the liquid life o'erflows
Each rising feature-the rich canvas glows
With heightened charms-the forehead rises fair-
In glossy ringlets twines the nut-brown hair,

WOLLASTON is honorably mentioned in IIORACE WAL POLE'S "Anecdotes." The finest of his known American

portraits is that of MARTHA DANDRIDGE, afterward the w

of WASHINGTOK.