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ing contrast between the Muse of Marmion and the Muse of Horace is drawn with all the skill of a poetical painter. The playful jokes at the expense of Pye, the laureat, and the allusion to British glory in Egypt will scarcely escape the attention of the enthusiastic and delighted reader. It is reverently hoped that the pun in the closing stanza of this jocund ode will not be very acrimoniously censured by the wits of Philadelphia, who dearly love a quibble and a conundrum sometimes, although they are capable, whenever they please, to exert a nobler powerof rising to the highest heaven of Invention, and of dazzling their admirers with those lights of mind which, for their purest radiance, require no fictitious and phosphoric power.





Pindarum quisquis studet aemulari, &c.

The bard, who rivals WALTER SCOTT,

Like Sancho, from the blanket shot,

Must soar in devious sprawl;

Then, weaving in his antique plot,

Vocabularies, long forgot,

With, well I ween and well I wot

The days of yore recall.

Him tinkling symbals on shall drive,

Queen bee of the Parnassian hive

The meed of glory won,

Whether he with the Minstrel creep,

Or mount the massy Donjon keep

With blackbrow'd Marmion.

Let him in eddying metre sail,

Still changing with the changing tale,

Now ruffled, now serene;

Ilis mutilated stanza treat

Like fam'd Procrustes, lopping feet,
Per Syncopen, I ween!

If e'er his creeping Muse invade,

A convent's consecrated shade,

Let her describe those haunts of leisure,

In gentle undulating measure,


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With thundersound and lightning blaze
Fill'd hordes of Arabs with amaze;

Made, like a hunted ostrich, Nile

Conceal his seven heads the while;

Flash'd like a meteor through the midnight gloom,
And shook the dust from Pharoah's marble tomb.
All this dear bard, is mighty well

But in land battles never tell

Of Albion's wit or worth.

Unlike that giant, big of bone,
Who wrestled with Alcmena's son,

Britannia mourns her vigour gone

When'ere she fights on earth.


Now cease my Muse, thy vain desire
To emulate the Laureat's fire,

How vast the intermediate line

"Twixt hurricane and zephyr.
Ill match'd, as when in battle join
Ten bulls and eke as many kine

Oppos'd to one poor heifer.

Proceed, great sir, and still display
Shreds of the buckram garb of Gray
In thy Pindaric strain;

To cut thy wing though critics try,
Then heed them not, with thee, my PYE
Tis cut and come again.


The Port Folio is often perused even by the pious during the decline of Sunday. Papers entirely of a gay and sportive description are not always relished, even by the dissipated themselves, at those solemn seasons, when Duty and Custom both impel us to commune with our own hearts in the inner chamber and be still. We have long been steadfastly and seriously of opinion that a moral department should have its conspicuous place in the Port Folio. Hence, it is our determination to devote something to the serious and sentimental as well as to the laughing lounger. We shall be anxiously on our guard, in this department of labour, not to perplex ourselves or others with angry polemics or by drowsy prosing to stupify

those, whom we wish to awaken and allure. A very concise moral or grave essay, which we may occasionally introduce, shall appear, we pledge ourselves, in a garb so elegant, as the Episcopalians may say, or so neat as the Quakers may say—that even rambling Impulse, giddy Indiscretion and desultory Heedlessness may pause, for a moment, to profit by a serious lucubration. The following essay will not be contemptuously slighted even by men of business and the world; not merely because it is not inelegantly written, but because it forcibly vindicates the utility of an habit to which we are largely indebted for more than a moiety of this world's comfort and consequence.

Industry is indispensably necessary to the well being of man. To industry we are indebted for all the necessaries, the comforts and conveniencies of life. By industry nations are enriched and aggrandized; and without it they are sunk in penury and barbarism. Industry may, in general, be denominated the strenuous application of our active faculties whether mental or corporeal to that end for which they were designed, or to which God intended them to be subservient. Thus the words industry and industrious are commonly used by us in a good sense; we do not call a wicked man industrious, who employs his active powers in a direction diametrically opposite to that of his duty; for, in this case, we might call every thief, or cheat who is vigilant in prosecuting his nefarious purposes, industrious. But we justly call a man industrious who is diligent in his proper calling; who spares no pains, and omits no exertions, in executing the particular duties which are annexed to his situation in life. We call a tradesman industrious who pays a strict and unremitting attention to his business; a labourer industrious who, instead of wasting his time in gayety and dissipation, is constantly at his work, when he is not prevented by sickness or other infirmities. And, as we apply the praise of industry to the right use of the mental as well as the corporeal faculties, he is industrious, who is diligent in those studies, which are suited to his station. The divine, who reads intensely the works of the greater theologians, and who composes eloquent homilies; the lawer who laboriously studies his precedents and then makes the forum vocal with the tones of reason and of rhetoric; the physician who meditates Celsus and frequents many a sick chamber; the lexicographer, who piles word upon word with all an architect's assiduity; even the Editor of a Journal, if he fulfil his humble task, with or with

out straw, all, all are entitled to the commendation of Diligence, and are honoured by mankind, in proportion to their exertions.

To be truly industrious it is necessary that we not only strenuously exercise our faculties, but that we exercise them to that end and for those purposes, which are suited to our condition in life, for every situation in which we are placed has its proper relative duties, which we cannot morally be called industrious if we do not use the most assiduous endeavours to fulfil. A man whose circumstances are such as to render it necessary for him to seek support for himself and his family by the labour of his hands and the sweat of his brow, cannot be called industrious, if instead of employing his active powers in manual labour, he be active only in roaming about the country, in frequenting fairs, going where any diversion calls or any frolic invites. In the same manner, he, who is placed in such a situation that it behoves him to labour to communicate instruction to others cannot morally be termed industrious, if, instead of employing his time in the acquisition of knowledge, and the improvement of his mind, he consume it in corporeal exercise, sordid pursuits and frivolous diversions. True industry, such as God requires, and such as is most conducive to the well being of society, is the vigorous exercise of our active powers, in those objects and those pursuits, which are most suited to our situation in life. Industry, therefore, means constant, diurnal, unremitting exertion in some particular pursuit. True industry, which is morally acceptable to God, and most conducive to the interests of man, will seldom be found compatible with that volatility of mind, which is constant only in inconstancy, which is continually shifting from one occupation to another, without employing any patient or persevering industry in any. Industry, therefore, in the way in which it is here considered, must often be disagreeable and adverse to the disposition of the individual; for it requires him to be active against his inclination. Men often find most pleasure in those desultory and ever varying employments, whether of the mind or body, whether confined to literary studies, or mechanical operations which, however grateful they may be to the individual by the variety, which is ever supplying fresh stimuli to attention, or fresh incitements to curiosity, do by no means

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