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But where to find that happiest spot below, Who can direct, when all pretend to know? The shudd'ring tenant of the frigid zone Boldly proclaims that happiest spot his own; Extols the treasures of his stormy seas, And his long nights of revelry and ease: The naked Negro, panting at the Line, Boasts of his golden sands, and palmy wine, Basks in the glare or stems the tepid wave, And thanks his gods for all the good they gave. Such is the patriot's boast, where'er we roam, His first, best country, ever is at home. And yet, perhaps, if countries we compare, And estimate the blessings which they share, Though patriots flatter, still shall wisdom find An equal portion dealt to all mankind : As diff'rent good, by Art or Nature giv'n To diff'rent nations, makes their blessings ev'n.

STANZAS ON WOMAN.

WHEN lovely woman stoops to folly
And finds too late that men betray,
What charm can soothe her melancholy,
What art can wash her guilt away?

The only art her guilt to cover,

To hide her shame from ev'ry eye,

To give repentance to her lover,
And wring his bosom-is, to die.

SONG.

O MEMORY! thou fond deceiver,
Still importunate and vain,
To former joys recurring ever,

And turning all the past to pain;

Thou, like the world, th' opprest oppressing,

Thy smiles increase the wretch's woe!
And he who wants each other blessing,

JOHN CUNNINGHAM was born in 1729, in Dublin, where his father was a wine merchant. He gave early indications of genius, and produced a successful drama at the age of seventeen. This circumstance, however, was an unhappy one; it procured him free access to the theatres, and he was degraded into a green-room lounger. In the end, he agreed with a manager of a strolling company to enter "the profession;" became an itinerant player in England; and continued, during his life, to endure the bitter privations, disappointments and degradations, universally attendant upon such a career. Nature, which had endowed his mind with some of her rarest qualities, had been chary of her personal gifts. Neither his voice nor his figure was such as promised to be attractive on the stage. He soon found that his choice had been an evil one, but was too proud to acknowledge his transgression, and seek the shelter of his paternal roof. This was not, however, pride only, but independence; for when offered a home with an industrious brother, he refused it; the occupation he had chosen for its glare he soon adopted of necessity, and travelled to various towns of England. In 1762, while at Edinburgh, he became first distinguished as a poet. For several years afterwards he continued to issue poems on various subjects; and, in 1766, they were collected into a volume, and published by subscription. It was inscribed to David Garrick, in a few simple lines, and with a degree of taste unusual to the poets of that age: "according to the ideas the author has conceived of Mr. Garrick's delicacy and good sense, a single period in the garb of flattery would certainly offend him." He died at Newcastle, in 1773, in the house of a generous printer, to whose liberality he had been often indebted.

His character appears to have been that of an indolent, amiable man. Although exposed to various vicissitudes, he preserved an honest name; and obtained, without ever forfeiting, the good opinion of many persons of worth and reputation. His friend, Robert Fergusson, honoured his memory; and recorded the leading points of his disposition and his muse:

"To many a fanciful spring

His lyre was melodiously strung;
While fairies and fawns in a ring
Have applauded the swain as he sung.
To the cheerful he usher'd his smiles,
To the woeful his sigh and his tear;
A condoler with want and her toils
When the voice of oppression was near.”

Cunningham not only found admirers during his own time-he has found them even in ours. His great merit, perhaps, is that he was never ambitious of attempting that which presented more than ordinary difficulties. All his compositions are of a simple and unpretending character:-the themes he selected are to be found in the common paths of life, but they are such as the man of genius only observes and turns to account. An ordinary person passes by unnoticed objects which attract the attention, and, it may be, excite the admiration of him who is an observer of nature and her works:

"Nothing is lost on him who sees
With an eye that feeling gave."

The "good in every thing," which those of more elevated faculties perceive and. take advantage of, produces a profitable harvest:"

"The attentive mind *

By this harmonious action on her powers,
Becomes herself harmonious."

The Poems of Cunningham will, therefore, always continue to give enjoyment to the reader who can derive it from faithful transcripts of nature. They are, for the most part, pastoral; and are more correctly so styled than most of the productions that have been sent forth under the misapplied title. The simplicity so prominent in his poems was perfectly natural and unstudied. The writer saw things as they were-saw them certainly with a kindly and gentle mind, and he described as he felt. He produced nothing of any length, and, as we have intimated, nothing that can be

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The "good in every thing," which those of more elevated faculties perceive and. take advantage of, produces

profitable harvest:

"The attentive mind

By this harmonious action on her powers,
Becomes herself harmonious."

The Poems of Cunningham will, therefore, always continue to give enjoyment to the reader who can derive it from faithful transcripts of nature. They are, for the most part, pastoral; and are more correctly so styled than most of the productions that have been sent forth under the misapplied title. The simplicity so prominent in his poems was perfectly natural and unstudied. The writer saw things as they were-saw them certainly with a kindly and gentle mind, and he described as he felt. He produced nothing of any length, and, as we have intimated, nothing that can be

[graphic][merged small][merged small]
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