1$22.] 
expectation will not be disappointed : 
Mr. Paulding’s work is, at all events, 
characteristic of his country. There 
is in it a robust energy, which sustains 
it under many defects. Like a strong 
traveller, the poet walks manfully on 
his way, little solicitous about the ele- 
gance of his motions. As an appro- 
priate subject for the exercise of his 
powers, we shall select his description 
of atempest; and we shall subjoin some 
other lines, none of which were quoted 
in our article above alluded to: 
A distant, halfheard murmur canght the ear, 
Exch moment waxing louder, and more near; 
A dark obscurity spread all around, 
And more than twilight seem’d to yell the ground, 
While not a leaf e’en of the aspen stirr’d, 
And not a sound, but that low moan, was heard; 
There is a moment when the boldest heart, 
That would not stoop an inchito ’scape Death’s dart, 
That never shrunk from certain danger here, 
Will quail and shiver with an aguish fear ; 
?Tis when some unknown mischief hovers nigh, 
4nd Heavy’n itself seems threatning from on high. 
Brave was our Basil, as became a man, 
Yet still his blood a little cooler ran, 
*Twixt fear and wonder, at that murmur drear, 
That every moment wax’d more loud and near. 
The riddle soon was rend—at last it came, 
And Nature trembled to her inmost frame; 
The forest roar’d, the everlasting oak 
in writhing agonies the storm bespoke, 
The live leaves, scatter’d wildiy every where 
Whirl’d round in madd’ning circles in the alr, 
The stoutest limbs were scatter’d all around, 
The stoutest trees a stouter master found, 
Crackling and crashing, down they thund’ring go, 
And seein to crush the shrinking rocks below; 
Then the thick rain in gatbering torrents pow’d, 
Higher the river rose, and louder roar’d, 
And on its dark, nick eddying surface bore 
The gatherd spoils of earth along its shore, 
While trees that not an hour before had stood 
The lofty monarchs of the stately wood, 
Now whirling round and round with furious force, 
Dash ’gainst the rocks that break the torrent’s force, 
And shiver like a reed by urchin broke 
Finan idle mischief, or with heedless stroke ; 
A hundred cataracts, unknown befére, 
lish down the mountain’s side with fearful roar, 
And, as with foaming fury down they go, 
Loose the firm rocks, and thunder them below, 
Live lightnings from the dark ¢loud’s bosom 
sprang, 
Like serpents menacing with forked tongue, 
While many a sturdy oak that stifly brav’d 
The threaVning hurricane that round it rav’d, 
Shiver’d beneath its bright resistless flash, 
Came tumbling down amain with fearful crash. 
Air, earth, and skies, seeni’d now to try their power, 
And struggle for the mastery of the hour; 
Higher the waters rose, and blacker still 
And threaten’d soon the narrow vale to fill. 
As a contrast to this picture, we 
shall give a sketch of a difforent scene, 
which will be sufficient to convey an 
idea of My. Paulding’s merit. His 
poetry is’ consistent with the rest of his 
character, which siands high for abi- 
lity. | This is the'extent of {he praise 
we ean bestow upon him; and we are 
disposed to think that his poetical fa- 
culties are not tliose of which he has 
most reason to be proud :— 
*T was evening now,—the hony of téil was o'er, 
Yet still they durst notyscek the fearful shore, 
Lest watchful Indian crew should silent creep, 
Atid spring upon, and wurde them in sleep 5 
Soithro\ the By choi bt they held their way, 
Aud’twas a puiglt mizht shame the fiireM day,~ 
On the American Poeis. 
315 
So still, so bright, so tranquil was its reign, 
They car’d not tho’ the day ne'er came again ; 
The moon high wheel’d the distant hills above, 
Silver’d the fleecy foliage of the grove, 
That as the wooing zephyrs on it fell, 
Whisper’d it loy’d the gentle visit well ; 
That fair-fae’d ord alone to move appeur’d, 
That zephyr was the only sound they heurds 
No grep mente a hound the hunter’s haunt 
tray 
No lights upon the shore, or waters play’d, 
No loud laugh broke upon the silent air, 
To tell the wand’rers man was nestling there; 
While even the froward babe in mother’s arms, 
Lull’d by the scene, suppress’d its loud alarms, 
And, yielding to that moment’s tranquil sway, 
Sunk on the breast, and slept its rage away. 
All, al] was still, on gliding barque and shere, 
As if the earth now slept to wake no more; 
Life seem’d extinct, as when the world first smii’d, 
Ere Adaia was a dupe, or Eve beguil’d. 
A light satirical poem follows, writ- 
ten in the manner of Don Juan, and 
not without effect, entitled “ anny.” 
It is published anonymously; a pre- 
caution for which the writer might 
have his private reasons within the 
walls of New York; and, indeed, we 
do not know that his naine would have 
been a very powerful accessory, if it 
made no stronger an impression on 
English cars than those ef Dabney, 
Maxwell, Bryant, and Eastburn, to 
whose muscs we are next introduced. 
Yet are all these gentlemen respect- 
able practitioners in different. depart- 
ments of their art. Mr. Dabney’s 
peculiar vocation appears to be to the 
inditing of western battle songs, in 
which he certainly displays consider- 
ablo vigour; but, unquestionably, 
more in the style of an Indian chicf 
giving the war whoop, than of Tyrtzeus 
of old, or of our own Campbell. The 
genius of Mr. Maxwell is of a more 
classical turn, and adopts, for the most 
part, light and epigrammatic subjects. 
Mr. Eastburn’s work is an imitation 
of Scott’s poems. It is called “ Ya- 
moyden, a Tale of the Wars of King 
Philip ;’ by which latter appellation 
our readers must apprehend not the 
object of their juvenile studies, in the 
history of Greece, but an unfortunate 
North-American chieftain, whose. ex- 
ploits and catastrophe are highly ro- 
mantic end interesting... Of ,.Mr. 
Bryant it stili remains to speak, and 
we have no hesitation in assigning) to 
him the superiority over all his coun- 
trymen of whom we have any know- 
ledge. His poetry, according to the 
subject, is full of energy and swect- 
be- 
ness. From the picces called, “'The 
Ages,” and ‘‘Thanatopsis,” we could 
select many proofs of the former qua- 
Lty, bat we prefer extracting a short 
poem, executed with a great degree of 
grace and facility, and abounding with 
; beautiful 
