630° 
Francesco and Pietro-Maria Marchetti; at 
aie Jean ‘Crespin and Eustache 
Vienon, &c. &e. &e. 
i Such ave the principal events in’ the 
life of Aldus the Elder, a man whose clas- 
sical. knowledge and critical skill were 
surpassed only by his unwearied exer- 
tions, and contintied labours, in the cause 
Original Poegri/: 
[June 1, 
of literature. These ensured him repu- 
tation and distinction whilst living, nor 
js it at all likely, that the deserved ve- — 
neration which has so long been attached 
to his name, wiil be lost or even impaired, 
while classical literature shall possess 
one sincere votary, 
ORIGINAL POETRY. 
— 
THE TRAVELLER RETURNED. 
OME, Edmund, as the sun goes downy 
Thy many wanderings tell ! 
. Say, after all thine eyes have seen, 
if home appears so well ? 
Sowell! oh! never may ye know 
How absence can endear ! 
In every hill, in every tree, 
A thousand charms appear ! 
Here as I gaze, I almost weep, 
My lis:’ning pulse beats slow, 
E seem beside this river's brink, 
To feel the waters flow ! 
Far grander scenes. I have beheld, 
As ye may well divine, 
That waken in some other hearts, 
What this may do in mine. 
But though I lightly wander’d forth, 
Through many a land to roam, 
Affection, like a wayward child, 
Sciil wept and murnrur’d home, 
JI perse rd, although I strain’d 
The ied der to my breast ; 
T hush’d her cries, but, as I chid, 
More fondly still carest. 
And when I met with youthful dames, 
Of grace and beauty det 
I rhouahe of one dear villa 
Become perhaps as fair. 
ge girl, 
My little playmate! oft Ihum’d 
The lays she lisping sung ; 
find sigh’d when looking on the arm, 
Where she at parting hung. 
What joy beneath my native hills, 
To find my Ellen free! 
‘To fancy others pleas’d her not, 
_. Because she thought on me ! 
So closely round a glowing heart, 
Did never flow’rs entwine ! 
Oh ! ne’er was happy spirit lulld 
In slumbers soft as mine! 
INGARETHAs 
——— EE 
AN ADPRESS TO THE ROBIN. 
WERT warbler, thy song on the thorn 
Inspires me each day with delight, . 
I hear thy mild carol to morn, 
And thy minstrelsy charms me at night. 
But the blossoms of summer must fade, 7 
And thy beak will be robbed of its fruit, 
The groves will deny theea shade, 
And with sorrow thy voice will be mute. 
I mark thee forlorn in the wood 
All leafless, a tearin thine eyes 
Tsee thee dstranger to food, 
And knowing not whither to fly. 
Then wing thee to Rosalind's how’r, 
Whose song is a rival to thine ; 
Her goodness will gild the dark hour, 
For the virtues in Rosalind shine. 
Thou wilt gather the crumbs from her hand, 
And sbake from thy pinions the snows 5 
Thy wish will her myrtles command, 
To yield thee from storms a repose. - 
How chang’d then thy fate, and the scene! 
When her bow'rs will be eHiaem'd “with 
» thy lay; 
Unruffied by winter’s stern reign, 
And forgetting the sunshine of May. 
A CASILE, Oy gaigad 
BUILT IN THE AIR, BENEATH A GROE 
OF LOFTY HEMLOCK TREES, ON THE 
BANKS OF GEAUGA RIVER,NEAR LAKE 
ERIE, NORTH AMERICA. 
ACCEPT, my friend, no solemn songs 
No song of dire or guiltful wrong, 
But one of quick inditing : 
A song o’er which thou yet may’st sigh—— 
And very true’s the reason why, 
As true as Lam writing. 
Know, then, my friend! that mida grove 
Of lofty hemlock trees I rove, 
Beside the grand Geauga: 
Where’er I turn my wandering eyes, 
Around me nature’s beauties rise, . 
Beyond far Cayahoga. 
And northward, rolling in the light, 
The swelling waves so snowy whitey 
Of beautiful Lake Erie 5 
While, here and there, a sail is seen 
Now dipping low the waves between, 
Now riding on them cheery. 
Below, wild-winding, broad and vlan! 
Geauga, wood-topt hills among, 
Now hid, and now appearing; 
And crowds of Muskalinges shine, 
Where never bait, nor hook, nor liney F 
Inspired poor fish with fearing, a, aed 
High perch’d in air the eagles sit, : 
Around me oft wild turkies flit ; 3 
There sugar-maples swelling 5". laut aiiaha 
Besicath che deep and craggy shores 
And, big with fear, the rivers roar— 
But here’s no house to dwell ins 
