rolled away, though battles, bloody and calamitous, have been fought, though valiant warriors have fallen, and faithful hearts been broken, often since that field, still at this day we have a tear for Hilfadilla.

In the progress of the translation, my attention was repeatedly called to the similarity, in style and temper of imagination, between this, and those immortal poems of Ossian, which the indefatigable labors of Mac Pherson have rescued from total oblivion. Him, therefore, I have in some measure followed; whilst I have strictly adhered to Dryden's rule, that translation should neither be so close as metaphrase, nor so loose as paraphrase. This similarity I can comprehend on no other supposition than that, among the Northmen adventurers, who, in the ninth and tenth centuries, it is well known, tempted the dangers of the sea, voyaging to Greenland and the lands below, there went a Skald or Northern Bard from Scandinavia or Scotia, who fell enamored of the land, wedded it, and became the happy father of this inscription.

To what a field for ingenious conjecture, and sapient thought, does the discovery of it introduce us! I can but think, that therein is contained a torch, which, in time, and with wise and skillful management, will cast so strong an effulgence into the antiquity of our country, that the darkness will lift, and we shall be able to look upon it with the clearness and certainty, that we now do upon the infancy of Rome.

The date of the execution of this poem I shall set at about the close of the tenth century of our era; though the incidents recorded must have taken place a number of years anterior. That a chief should violate the strong obligations of his oath and his faith, and steal like a wolf upon his foe, is not in the honorable course of civilized warfare. The martial implements and decorations, and the method of conducting the conflict, lead to the same conclusion. But there was patriotism, and worship of liberty then, which we see displayed in the knightly conduct of the valorous Mindonnah.

Methinks I

But the poem must have been born in a golden era. see the sun of civilization, of literature, of refinement, casting a noontide effulgence over the whole land, and bathing hamlet, and city, and province, in the glory of its beams. Europe is sodden in the filth of barbarism; but America!-Spirit of Greece, leaving thy native hills, illustrious beneath thine eye, thou must have flown majestic over her shores, waving thy golden wand.

Of all this, we need but a solitary proof, which the poem affords as embodied in its essence. The Literati alone, will of themselves be able to judge; others must disbelieve, or rely upon my judgment, when I give it, that the language, in which this inscription is written, is surpassed in respect of beauty, comprehensiveness, and force, by none other under heaven, save the Greek. I cannot appeal to foreign planets for illustration; but survey the past history of this, and what has not every nation attained to before it has risen to the possession of a written language? what, before that language has reached the maturity of its strength? Cities have been born; governments have been es

tablished; and an enlightened spirit has been breathed over the land. This has been eminently the course advanced in the Eastern Hemisphere; and will not the chain of analogy stretch across the great waters?

What besom of destruction swept over the continent-what scourge assailed it with its iron lash, till hardly a trace of the mighty inhabitants was left upon its face, who can tell? External foes, intestine war, famine, pestilence, none of these, nor all combined, could have been equal to so terrible a work. A power, more vast than the silent onslaughts of the armies of the Angel of Death, was required for the stupendous downfall-the battling of the elements, that cause "the wreck of matter, and the crush of worlds."

But these American (I use this modern term for ignorance of the ancient) Greeks, who kindled the splendors of so great an empire, were not identical with the ignorant and savage hordes, that looked upon our fathers as celestial visitants. Primitively two distinct nations lived beneath this western sun, masters and slaves-Spartans and Helots. And when the terrible Angel of Destruction rolled his thundering car over valley and plain, crushing into dust, cities and temples, and men, there survived but a miserable remnant of the Helotry, who had embarked upon the seas. From these, ignorant and superstitious, sprung the numerous modern Indian tribes, to whom the White Man's enterprise has proved as a deathful miasma, not so awful as the sudden visit of that ancient overthrow, but as fatal in its silent work. A few of nobler souls, of higher attainments, and of superior qualities of mind, penetrated the gorgeous south, and laid the foundations of the flourishing empires of Mexico and Peru. Other monarchies arose, whose bones now lie strewn through the forest-robed plains of Yucatan and Guatimala.

I have thus merely opened a rich vein for thought, which I hope will be entered and vigorously worked by abler hands. A little imagination will reveal the manners, customs, literature, and laws of that people; and whosoever shall put forth this effort, must receive the blessings of the present age, and the homage of posterity.

VOL. XIII.

WINTER IN THE COUNTRY.

Ho! ho! it snows; ho! ho! it blows;
The night wind whistles shrilly;

The snow-flakes light, deck in robes of white

The bare earth, damp and chilly.
But while without, snows whirl about,
And skies scowl dark and dreary,
The blazing fire soothes the wintry ire,
In the parlor bright and cheery.

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No more it snows no more it blows;

The sky's blue face smiles clearly;

The damp snows freeze on the pendent trees,
Fantastic shapes, how queerly!
Now school-boys roll the growing ball,
And build their snow-house proudly;
Or fashioning their rude snow-king,
Then pelt him, laughing loudly.

Out with the sleigh! away! away!
The broad white fields gleam brightly;
The snow-bird free, chirps merrily,
Gleaning his scanty crumbs lightly.
Around the fold, 'gainst the piercing cold,
Thick cloaks and warm furs tightly;
And hie away, thou gallant gay,

And maiden blithe and sprightly.

Rich tints of red o'er her soft cheeks spread,
Where the keen cold winds have kiss'd them;
As if she blushed, when past they rushed,
Nor let her e'en resist them:
And, envious, he would gladly be

A breeze, to steal such kisses;
And glances sly, from her half-shut eye,
Quick tell she kens his wishes.

Her witching eye, and tremulous sigh
Were spells not to be slighted;
With quick embrace, he stole a kiss-
Just then the horse was frighted;

One side he starts, then forward darts,

The light sleigh tips, like feather, "Spilt out," they sank in the deep snow-bank, Their join'd lips still together!

Ho! ho! the snow! ho! ho! the blow!
What tho' the blast feels coldly?
Gay skaters skim, where oft they swim,
O'er the ice-bound river boldly;
The sleigh-ride too! for who, oh! who
Would mind such funny jumble
In the cold snow, while kissing so,

If a sweet girl shared his tumble?

EDITORS' TABLE.

As this is the great repository of wit and humor, according to the notions of Mr. Samuel Stokey and others, I lead off with a conundrum. Canst tell wherefore Editors are cabinet-makers? Because they construct tables. "Very fine"! Now there are various kinds of tables, that the ingenuity of man has born into this sublunary society. It is often a piťʼable (pie-table) affair, that we see cooks working about, yet the general supposition is, that it is eatable, (a-table.) There are likewise tableaux, and tablets, and card-tables, (which are used o' nights,) and round-tables, (which used to be o’knights,) and logarithmic tables, (which, being log-a-rythmic, are a kind of logical poetry,) and the Twelve Tables, (which are now believed to be not legal,) and, finally, Editors' Tables. These are a kind of writin' table, whereof I shall now discourse, i. e. make dis coarse one that you see before you. They are of a vast variety of sorts, constructions, and characters. Some are p(h)ine, and all try to secure "Norwegian p(h)ine." Some are long, and some are short, which together constitute the "long and short" of the matter; or, as the poet has visibly expressed it,

"Was not Pharaoh a rascal,

Because he would not let the children of Israel go three days' journey into the wilderness to keep the

Pascal?"

Some are pitiful, and some are wittiful; some are all broken, and some take all folk in; some are excruciatin', some do vex, few show hate in. What consternation, what dismay, what terror, what trembling-of-the-joints-and-hair-sticking-upon-the-head kind of feelings, a horrible company of spiritual hobgoblins, assail the ramparts and the don-jon fixings of the breast of one of the literary Cabinet-makers, as he plants himself doggedly, with unwhetted circumspection, and with unedged ideas, to execute a tabular performance, and

"With a glorious, complicated hitch,"

adjoin two leaves. And this is the order of operation:

He must, in the first place, on the supposition of his being a mental stock-holder, (reader, I have a drove of mulish metaphors to stable, be careful that none of them kick thee over, and escape,) draw upon his feet (a great feat) his stockings of wit, hang about his neck his stock of sublimity, take in hand his whip-stalk of discrimination, stalk forth into the field of thought, scourge his stock of ideas, until they stand stock still, then throttle them, and lay them on his table;

"Sonorous mental blowing martial sounds."

This is the metaphorical and pleasing aspect of the performance; behold the stern reality! Could the Sanctum be disclosed to mortal eyes, they might see your Editor, at the present time, wrapped in all the beatitude of the position. Mounting his stocking-clad (Editors are so notoriously the Sons of Penury, that they cannot afford to wear stockings and boots at one and the same time) pedestral locomotives on a specimen of superficial quadrupedic furniture, after having elevated his thermometer to about two inches of the ceiling, i. e. 96°, (if he have no fuel, a stray glance now and then—as his eyes will be flaming and flashing during the process-will serve,) he must heel over upon the hinder extremities of his chariot-quadruped, shape himself into the diagram of a sextant, and feel sublime. He must now dig the fingers of one

hand into his head, and his teeth into the extremities of those of the other, according to all the rules of Horace. If the back part of his head does come in contact with the floor now and then, he need not mind it, as the funny ideas that start forth at the shock will be an ample recompense; besides, he will soon be accustomed to it. He never will make a good Editor until he does. Thus must he perform until his Satanic Majesty enters and exclaims-"Maga-'nuff." He must then rise like the Sun, make a so, and whistle

"to the Dorian mood

Of flutes and soft recorders."

We have one or two letters concerning public and private grievances, which we shall take this opportunity to answer for the common benefit.

DEAR SIR-AS I consider your Magazine on the pinnacle of authority and influence, a promoter of morals, and a comforter to the afflicted, I call upon you to cast a public frown upon a public nuisance. Companies of rude, unruly boys (I presume they think themselves gentlemen) going about our city nightly, with cracked instruments, and equally perfect voices, serenade-rather disturb their slumbers, and infuriate the maidens with their doleful noises, while they hope to entice love, and smiles, and boquets from the windows. It is horrible, Sir, actually horrible! Only think of my sweet reposes being disturbed by "Bango" rising on the wind. Fires, and robbers, and goblins arise in my mind, and I wake all in a tremor. The efforts of your wisdom to promote my rest will provoke the sincere gratitude of your admirer and constant reader, LUCY ANTIMUSIC.

We would urge this our "admirer" to the frequent use of cotton, as an effectual antidote.

DEAR MAG-Dost thou know a medicine for a broken heart? Near a year ago I saw a lovely maid, and my breast took fire; which not the many snow-banks that I have stood in to my waist, hour after hour, guitar in hand, discoursing sweet music, have quenched; nor has the cold midnight air blown it out. Still she is as obdurate as a rock, and cold as an iceberg. Give me your advice, and receive the eternal gratitude of your almost dead friend,

A SOPHOMORE.

As this individual appears to be nearly dead, we would advise him to hang himself immediately.

RESPECTED FRIEND-Having studiously avoided the society of the ladies thus far in our course, in a kind of martyrdom to myself, I am now desirous of putting a finishing polish on my education, and write to you, as fully conversant in these matters, for the readiest passport to their favor. Oblige, by a speedy Your affectionate and anxious

answer,

CLASSMATE.

We feel complimented by this appeal to our experience. Let our friend always open the conversation with mathematics, continue on logic, and finish with some of the finer passages in Demosthenes, eschewing all flattery, nonsense, and mirth, blowing his nose, as a requiem, over every paragraph, and spitting on the floor in the interim, and we doubt not but he will receive some kind of a passport from the fair.

NOTICES TO CORRESPONDENTS.

The extra quantity of matter for this No., has excluded a few very good pieces, that might have otherwise appeared.

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Theory versus Practice," "Non ommis moriar," "The ultimate-law," "Life,” and "The old age of Grecian Philosophy," will be handed over for the next No. "The Yankee Thanksgiving" will serve very well for a song, but is rather prolix for our pages.

"Beëlzebub” had better have never been written. If there is a Magazine in the Infernal Regions, the author may, perhaps, by application get it printed there.

We regret much that the extent of the pieces has cut us off with so small a Table; however, we must pocket the chagrin, and calculate better for the future. As it is, the No. is extra large, so that the next must be smaller than usual. This we hope will be a satisfactory arrangement.

Pieces for the next No. must be sent in immediately.