For the Emerald. RURAL INSCRIPTION. COME ye! who loath the horrid crest, Here fairies quaff their acorn bowls Thrice welcome to our calm retreat, For the Emerald. SYLVA. ADVICE TO A LADY. BLUSHING Snow-storms and confusion In the gayest verdant bloom! And improve the present time, SELECTED. ODE TO MEMORY. WHERE dost thou, Memory, thy seat In what recesses of the brain? What corner of the mind? Thy wond'rous source to find. see The traces strong, which memory Thy faithful records, long impress'd re- The sense of pleasure and of pain, When pain or pleasure's o'er : Would give delight no more. When every present object fails to We recollect the hours of ease, And to our minds its fragrance bring, By thee, all knowledge we attain; To learning's sacred lore; Vain his attempts to soar. In vain fair science spreads her simple store, Turning instructive science o'er, With modern learning fraught; Though all antiquity holds forth to view, Be represented to us too, It will avail us nought. E'en Tully's eloquence in vain would charm, Or Plato's heav'nly wisdom warm, If traces none remain, Of what we read, or what attentive hear, Where memory does not reign. O Pow'r Supreme! from whom alone | Of veal a lucid loin, mankind Derive this faculty of mind, move, Nor ought but what thou dost approve, Be ever treasur'd there. THE ROSE-BUD. HARRIET pluck'd an unblown rose, And, smiling, said to me, "E'er this young rose its sweets disclose, "I give it unto thee." "Why bring me this," I quick replied, "It can no sweets impart ;" Twill soon expand," she blushing cried, "If warm'd against thy heart." "This bud," resum'd the lovely maid, "Would soon have been a rose; "And then its fragrant beautics fade; "It withers when it blows." "Then o'er it opes its tender head, "The captive rose to free; "Before its perfum'd sweets are shed, "Oh! pluck it from the tree. "Then let it feel thy heart's warm power, "Oh nourish it with care, "And Gratitude will teach the flower "To shed its sweetness there." She plac'd the rose-bud next my heart, EPIGRAMS. LLEKEIT. On an old Harridan. Tell me, Dorinda, why so gay, Why such embroidery, fringe, and lace? And mend a ruin'd face? Canst thou forget thy age and—? So have I seen in larder dark Replete with many a glittering spark, As wise philosophers remark, At once both stink and shine. On being advised to marry. Sir, you are prudent, good, and wise: I own, and thank you from my heart, And much approve what you advise; But let me think-before I start. For folks well able to discern, Who know what 'tis to take a wife, Say, 'tis a case of such concern, A man should think on't-all his life The Contrast. The Jews, as we in Sacred Writ are tok, To buy a god, gave Aaron all their gold; But Christians now, times are so monstrous odd, To heap up gold, will even sell their GOD. The Lover's Legacy. Unhappy Strephon, dead and cold, His heart was from his bosom rent, Embalm'd, and in a box of gold, To his beloved Kitty sent. [ed, Some ladies might, perhaps have faintBut Kitty smil'd upon the bauble: A pin-cushion, said she, I wanted, Go put it on the dressing-table. The Wonder. My heart still hov'ring round about you, I thought I could not live without you; Now we've liv'd three months asunder, How I liv'd with you is the wonder. On a Gentleman, who married a this consumptive Lady. With a warm skeleton so near, And wedded to thy arms for life, When death arrives, it will appear Less dreadful-'tis so like thy wife. A spouse so thin, tho' all agree Had better much be let alone; Flesh of thy flesh she cannot be, Who is made up of only bone. The Dotard's Want. Geron, at fourscore, married; 'tis to late. No: but he wants an heir to his estate. Boston, Mass.) Published BY BELCHER & ARMSTRONG. No. 70, State Street. SEMPER REFULGET. No. 35. Boston, Saturday, December 27, 1806. ORIGINAL PAPERS, FOR THE EMERALD. THE WANDERER, THE CONCLUS ION OF THE YEAR. tions on this ill-judging child of pleasure as he complies with his unreasonable request. Wherefore my son, says he, are you about to depart from us? When you quit your father's house you will indeed, leave home. Pain and disappoint ment and misfortune lurk among the most pleasing circles of the thronged and busy world. You will THE Wanderer has seldom di- need the prudence of age, the cauverted the attention of his readers tions of experience, and the kind adentirely from subjects of literature monitions of friendship and regard. to those of morality, but the con- Trust not my son with vain creduliclusion of another year and the re-ty to your own imagined wisdom, flections it occasions, induces him nor believe those steps are secure to bring before their view that beau- where your inexperience anticipates tiful apologue of sacred history that no danger. Here we have watched relates the story of the prodigal son. over your infancy with tenderness, "A certain man, (says the para- and your riper years with delight. ble) had two sons; and the younger Why will you leave this asylum of of them said to his father-Father security for the tumults and the give me that portion of goods that troubles of life? falleth to me." With the thoughtless impetuosity of youth he was desirous of rushing beyond the limits of parental authority; he sighs for the power of being his own master, longs to possess the hoarded treasures of his venerable parent, in vain expectation that wealth will purchase a reprieve from care and realize those visions of pleasure which the sanguine temper of youthful inexperience is too apto indulge. I am But you are determined to be acquainted with new scenes and new manners. Remember then, in all your conduct, that industry is wealth and that honesty is honor. enabled to give you a sufficient portion of goods to allow you to begin life with reputation, and if you place your reliance on the favour of providence, I hope you may terminate with success. "And not many days after, the younger son gathered all together and took his journey into a far country." 66 And he divided unto them his livin g.' Ican see the good old man with And what did he there? Did he kindness at his heart and sorrow in devote his talents to some useful his eye, looking with painful emo-, occupation? Was he distinguished VOL. I. M M for the industry of his habits, the [ he sent him into his fields to feed nobleness of his feelings? Did he swine." return the old-man's goodness by Indeed!-Could then the impafollowing his principles and repay tient prodigal, who had quitted even a debt of gratitude by a life of honor? the ease and security of a father's -Nohouse for greater relaxation and "He wasted his substance with pleasure, descend of his own acriotous living." Giving loose to un-cord to the most humiliating of emcontrouled appetites and unlawful ployments. Could he who had left desires, he pursued the phantoms of pleasure through all their circles of deception with the sacrifice of his reputation, his fortune and his health. Forgetful of the admonitory precepts and the indulgent generosity of his father, he throws away the peace of his mind and the integrity of his character for the momentary gratification of licentious and dishonorable passions. the very bosom of friendship flushed with the promised joys of encreased delight, who had rioted amid the charms of beauty and music, he who had been accustomed to superfluity and elegance and to all the blandishments of easy life, could he stoop to a menial employment? Necessity has no pride, and folly no limit to its degradation. "He would fain have filled his belly with the husks that the swine did eat." "And when he had spent all there arose a mighty famine in that land." · Miserable and deceived young Yes that pampered appetite man! At a distance from every which had feasted on the choicest thing which once had connection viands and the richest wines, that with your interests; among strang- had gratified itself with whatever ers oppressed with their own wants riotous luxury could command, and probably disgusted with your was now reduced to the mortifying intemperance and folly; with no desire of making the swine his other friends than the companions companions, the ground his table, of the gaming table or dissolute pro-and the husks his food. Even here flgates in more abandoned iniquity, he is disappointed. you find too late the folly of your actions, and are to be awakened by calamity into sorrow and remorse. "And he began to want." No wonder that he is now refused admission to those tables of luxury which once courted the display of his wealth; that he no longer hears those sounds of affection which were once lavished on his ears. The bright visions that were opening on his gay and thoughtless course are fading away in the general calamity; he is left to contend at pleasure with distress and terror; with the loss of property and the danger of life. "And he went and joined him self to a citizen of that country, and "No man gave unto him.” To what an abject and humble situation is the young votary of pleasure reduced. From the peace and the affluence and the respect that attended him in his father's house among kinsfolk and friends, he had trifled away his stock of prosperity, and you find him in distress, wretchedness and degradation in a foreign country, among strangers with no ability to make himself useful, and no virtue to command respect. In compassionating the situation of this ill-advised pupil of dissipation, let us take care, that we are not in disguise paying the debt of pity to our own follies. Who of us during the year that is now about to out allowance being made for the close, but has crossed the path of decays of strength or the waste of wisdom as widely as the unfortun- time. All this might be natural ate prodigal? The Wanderer will and excusable if it went no farther, be read by very few who have not but an impression once made is with on the whole had much more cause difficulty extinguished. We surof gratitude than complaint during render our judgment to habits of this annual period, but how many approbation, and often take the have been as anxious as the prod-source whence an article is derived igal to change their destined scene, as the criterion of its merits. In to alter their determined fate,to roam fashion this sentiment is law. Who abroad in search of wider pleasure? ever examines into the convenience How many like him have left indus- or beauty of its decorations? It is try for amusement, neglected the sufficient that the last importation cautions of experience for the levi- has brought an article directly from ties of youth and lost sight of the St. James' or St. Cloud to give it purposes of life in overweening de- general currency and value.sire to participate its charms. Pur-Whether it be that in winter you sue then the similitude if it has once been begun. Shake off the fetters of habit and the restraints of pride. Arise and return to the path once injudiciously forsaken. Re-fashionable costumes coming to us turn like the prodigal with resolutions of amendment and the favor which protected him will he found not diminished in cheerfulness or powers. Let the new year be the witness of a new life let us leave that servility to the passions which degrades us beneath a feeder of swine and determining on the attainment of virtue, make our zeal the gurantee of success. For the Emerald. CHARACTER. E. An author's first book gets his name reputation, and his name then gives currency to the rest. The influence of an acquired character is predominant in every circle of life. Where we have once found valuable information, we turn with confidence for a second supply. The tree that has once produced good fruit is again expected to flourish with equal luxuriance, with are to be arrayed in muslins or with furs in July, still is found the same universal acquiescence, as if it were treason to doubt the propriety of from the great emporiums of taste and magnificence. In more serious concerns the splendor of one great action will sometimes procure a stock of reputation sufficient to last a man for his life; and he may quietly repose on his laurels without the trouble of nourishing them; or as the proverb quaintly expresses it," he who has got his name up may lay abed till noon." Every one has heard of the almanack maker who accidentally marked in his ephemeris that snow would descend in May, it chanced that his words proved true, and for a long time afterwards nobody could sell an almanack but himself; he was the weatherwise prophet in whom every body trusted, and whose reputation it would take a great many accidents to overturn. Now, what assisted the almanack maker, has been of great service to many authors besides, that is a lucky chance that happened to catch the fancy, or interest the feelings of the reader-a few such fortunate occurrences |