To A Young Gentleman Residing In France

THE new year opes — the early morning dawns,
Broad sheets of silver dress the whiten'd lawns;
Bleak winter rises from the brindled north,
The tempest shakes, and furious blasts pour forth.

From nature's dawn, to nature's latest hour,
Each spangled leaf bespeaks creative pow'r;
The vernal dew drops, or autumnal breath,
That wraps the foliage in the arms of death;
The yew, the cypress, or the blooming rose,
India's long summer, or the Lapland snows,
Alike proclaim, what sceptic fools deny,
The soul's support — a providential eye.

This glorious truth my opening lids survey'd,
My grateful heart its early homage paid;
Then swiftly wasts its warmest wishes o'er
To find * * * on the Gallic shore.

" Long health, long peace, long happiness attend, "
The lovely youth, and bring me back my friend,
Unhurt, unshackled by the triple chains
Of folly, pride, or pleasure's guilty scenes.
When he has travell'd o'er from stage to stage,
The distant world, and read life's gaudy page,
Oh! may he quit th' illusive, airy chace,
And retrospect the happy path of peace.
True happiness consists in real worth,
And makes her exit when lost sight of truth;
The heaven born prize is not the gift of gold,
Of princes, statesmen, or whole countries sold;

'Tis not the lap of luxury display'd
In all the spoils of innocence betray'd;
Nor will the smiles of witlings or of kings,
The laugh licentious of such motley things,
Give joy or peace to sterling worth or sense,
'Tis honest probity, with competence,
That calms the mind, and smooths the manly mein,
And shews the world true happiness within.

Search o'er the globe — the circling ball traverse —
Let British bards their Gothic tales rehearse;
Let Grecian pens, or modern poets sing,
The feats of ancients, or of Bourbon's king;
The sage, the bard, the scepter'd hand, combin'd,
Have nought to barter for a virtuous mind.

The herald's page, emblazoning high birth,
The longest lift of ancestry on earth,
Ennobles not, nor dignifies the son,
'Till merit makes the deeds renown'd, his own.

Methinks I hear the youthful bosom sigh,
And nature whisper fancy's fond reply;
" These old ideas are quite out of date,
Can man be happy without pomp or state?
He who can wealth and pageantry disclaim,
May mark the willows with his blighted name;
Hid in the caverns of some dark retreat,
And wrap'd in canvas, the wild anchoret
May weep, or rave in silence or despair,
And groans reecho with the whistling air. "

Not so, my son, did Hercules demean,
When rival goddesses adorn'd the scene;
The Cyprian queen a thousand lurements spread,
A modest glory crown'd Minerva's head;
Pleasure's bright nymph new deck'd her charming face,
But virtue beckon'd with a milder grace;
Love's little urchin, by his mother taught,
Ten thousand joys in fancy's bosom wrought;
Fond wishes warm'd, the youthful hero sigh'd,
'Till Virtue shew'd him to the gods alli'd.
The spark celestial kindled in his breast,
The man, the hero, and the god confess'd;
Pleasure turn'd pale, and drop'd her wither'd wand,
Triumphant Virtue lent her willing hand,
And led him on to every glorious deed
His ancestors atchiev'd, or heav'n decreed.

Thy native land is big with mighty scenes,
And fate rolls rapid o'er her vivid greens;
What time unfolds, the muse must yet conceal,
And leave a blank for bolder pens to fill;
But ere she quits the dark prophetic lays,
Let her retrace, and recollect the days,
When, by the margin of the western tide,
Young empire sprung from proud oppression's side;
The infant flourish'd, nurs'd by freedom's hand,
Who spread her banners o'er a bleeding land.

Economy, to virtue close alli'd,
A frugal pair, with wisdom by their side,
And ruddy health, Aurora's offspring smil'd,
And promis'd vigour to the new born child;
The maid, caress'd by potentates and kings,
Rais'd high her fame, and spread her growing wings.

But, 'midst the prospect suddenly appear'd,
A hideous form whose front by heaven was fear'd;
From envy's gulph the phantom seem'd to rise,
His head he rear'd, and roll'd his redden'd eyes;
His forky sang, and livid lip, reveal'd,
The crooked form, a gaudy vest conceal'd;
Large tablets mark'd the monster's gally breast,
And A V'RICE stood conspicuous on his crest;
His tainted breath infects from shore to shore,
And poisons all the generous fountains o'er,
True public spirit floated down the tide,
While dissipation danc'd by folly's side;
Soft silken breezes fan'd her fluttering wing,
And golden showers hid her guilty sting;
The molten calves fall prostrate at her shrine,
Sip the new joys, mistaken for divine.
A sudden gust, in part, the mist dispell'd,
And shew'd Columbia on a broken shield:
She wept, and totter'd on the rapid stream,
'Till it rush'd back, and broke the flattering dream:
Her trembling lip in quivering accents said,
Alas! am I by half my friends betray'd?
Though noble names from distant realms repair,
And breathe new vigour in the northern air;
Yet dangers threat, and distant thunders roar;
Convulsive storms may rage from shore to shore.

If Attic annals don't mislead the muse,
And old Amphyctions had their private views,
Some latent spark of wild, exotic growth,
Engender'd there, may flourish in the south;
Ambitious Philips live in modern times,
And bold improvements make on Grecian crimes.

Yet in the field exalted heroes stand,
And, while he lives, may Washington command!
The social virtues claim him for their own,
An hero born, fair freedom's favorite son;
Fresh myrtles spring, and never fading bays,
Live where he fought, and mark his glorious days;
While virtue's hand enrols La Fayette's name,
And ranks him high on the bright lift of fame.

Is thy young bosom warm'd with patriot zeal?
An ardent glow to serve the common weal?
Or does ambition lead thee to the field,
In war to conflict, and the faulchion wield?
From Hector's days to haughty Caesar's time,
When sinking Rome, ingulph'd in every crime,
When ravag'd Gaul had swell'd the tyrant's pride,
And crimson torrents wash'd the Danube's side;
Nor yet when Charles, and his more bloody son,
On carnage fed, till Europe was undone;
(The Rhine ran red, the low lands overflow'd,
And every city smoak'd with patriot blood:)
Yet history has never mark'd a page,
With feats more glorious than the present age;
No smitten plains, or reeking fields afford,
A fairer cause to draw an hero's sword,
Than does thy country, ravag'd and distress'd,
While war's hoarse clarion roars from east to west.

Yet private virtue wants the youth's support;
Leave all the sopperies of a foreign court;
* * * come, with every virtue fraught,
By principle and precept, early taught,
A bright example shine among the first,
Good as thy fire — as Aristides just;
Then may thy youth and manners both engage,
And smile contempt on folly's pu'rile rage.

When wintry blasts no more shall tear the plain,
And thy fond wishes bear thee o'er the main;
When soft Favonius fans the vernal breeze,
And Boreas' breath shall cease to lash the seas;
My forest birds sweet warbling notes shall sing,
And hail thy welcome with returning spring.

The long lov'd mansion that first gave thee birth,
The happy dome that nurs'd thy early youth,
Is left awhile to taste the sylvan gale,
As life treads downwards thro' time's narrow vale;
And if benignant heaven still protect,
And tow'rds thy natal soil thy steps direct,
Haste to the villa on the southern side
Of sweet Tremont, whose wavy waters glide
Near the fair summit of a lofty mount,
Where wild woods shade a soft meandering fount;
That gently rolls and forms a small cascade,
By nature's hand irregularly made;
The towering oaks and rising hill tops vie
To shade the radiance of the western sky;
The sloping lawns and flowery meads combine
To form the landscape on a bold design;
The opening bay a winding river bounds,
And scatter'd isles erect their verdant mounds;
The grey ey'd morn her streaked pinions spreads,
And distant mountains rear their blushing heads;
The broad Atlantic's rolling tide between,
Heightens the grandeur of th' enchanting scene;
The whiten'd surges gently wash the shore,
While silver rills run softly rippling o'er.

The fragrant banks, whose native borders rise
In beauteous foliage of a thousand dyes;
The tufted flowers meet the clustering vine,
That wildly rambles o'er the conic pine;
The darkening cedars form the grotto's shade,
And greener willows fan the fertile glade;
A little alcove opes on either hand,
Where the tall larch and vivid limes ascend;
The lengthen'd vista widens through the dale,
Where sportive flocks play o'er the glossy vale;
From hence we view along the watery way,
Great Bourbon's flag and streaming pendants play.

In this retreat reside thy happy friends,
Content and health benignant heaven lends;
A social board, with frugal plenty crown'd,
A generous welcome smiles on all around;
The day glides on, and when the eve returns,
Fraternal love in every bosom burns;
Each virtue planted in the youthful breast,
The parents smile, in future prospects blest.

Domestic peace, a conscious upright mind,
Is honour, wealth, and every good combin'd;
Return, my son, for nothing else we need,
To see thee happy, would be bliss indeed.