who should come after him. This difficulty does not seem to have occurred to any of the commentators. Had the works of Menander and of his cotemporaries been preserved, they probably would have explained the mystery; which for want of that light will perhaps remain a mystery for ever. Homer has, for twenty centuries, been held the prince of poets. Such perfection in an author who flourished when arts were far short of maturity, is truly wonderful. The nations engaged in the Trojan war are described by him as in a progress from the shepherd state to that of agriculture. Frequent mention is made in the Iliad of the most en inent men being shepherds. Andromache, in particular, mentions seven of her brethren who were slain by Achilles as they tended their father's flocks and herds. In that state, garments of woollen cloth were used; but the skins of beasts, the original clothing, were still worn as an upper garment: every chief in the Iliad appears in that dress. Such indeed was the simplicity of this early period, that a black ewe was promised by each chief to the man who would undertake to be a spy. In times of such simplicity, literature could not be far advanced; and it is a great doubt, whether there was at that time a single poem of the epic kind for Homer to imitate or improve upon. [To be continued.] DISEASE AND DEATH. AS DEATH is from no other source than from sin, and sin is all that which is contrary to divine order, it is from this ground that evil closes the smallest and altogether Invisible vessels [of the human body] of which the next greater vessels, which are also invisible, are composed; for the smallest and altogether invisible vessels are continued to man's interiors; hence comes the first and inmost obstruction, and hence the first and inmost vitiation in the blood; this vitiation, when it increases, causes disease, and at length death. But if man had lived the life of good, in this case his interiors would be open to Heaven, and through Heaven to the Lord; thus also the smallest and invisible vascula [the delineaments of the first stamina] would be open also, and hence man would be without disease, and would only decrease to ultimate old age, until he became altogether an infant, but a wise infant; and when in such case the body could no longer minister to its internal man, or spirit, he would pass, without disease, out of his terrestrial body, into a body such as the angels have, thus out of the world immediately into Heaven. A. C. 5726. Nursed by affection's fostering care, The pride of every grove, Was Anna, when, with raptured tongue, The tender notes of love. But soon, alas! the reign of bliss was o'er, For near to Anna dwelt a maid Had gained an ampler share; Possessing too, each subtle art By which a warm and fluttering heart Her golden charms he views with dazzled eyes, With sensibility endued, Of tenderest nerve, a shock so rude In vain she strove to bear; The rose soon left her grief-worn cheek, The language of despair. At length, one morn, to Hudson's banks she hied, Of life quite sick, and plunged beneath the tide. A youth, unseen, was angling near, And eager sprang to save; With whelming death he bravely fought, The victim from the wave. Returning life at length her senses woke, And thus, with panting breath, she wildly spoke: "Ah, cruel! thus a hapless wretch, From peace, officiously, to fetch Back to a world of woes! Ah! why me from my wishes tear, Oh give me Henry back with Henry's love, The startled youth conviction stung; And struck him mute with awe; 'Twas Henry's self she saw! Now gushing tears his bosom's feelings tell, "Oh, injured maid! with pity see A face with shame o'ercast! Say, can a life of watchful care, Of tenderest love and virtue rare, Atone for errors past? Wealth, and the world's gay trappings I resign, Forgiveness beam'd in Anna's eye, Soon Hymen's shrine its rites bestowed, No cares or jealousies their peace molest, FOR THE HALCYON LUMINARY. RELIGION. Written by a Lady, in a lingering sickness. Come, blest Religion! heavenly fair, He tells me health has from me fled, That sickness pale my couch has spread, "O turn thee, weary pilgrim sad," "Flee back, Despair, whose purpose bad, Thy sorrows on thy Maker cast, To those who love their God." New-York, Feb. 14, 1812. M. A. W. FREE MASONRY. Hail, glorious art! to mortals given 'Tis this ennobles human kind, 'Tis architecture in the mind, And prompts the generous heart, To square each thought, each word and act, And take a brother's part. 136 To tread the path the sages trod, That fills immensity of space To joy for what the good possess, To turn affliction's sighs to songs, To form a true fraternal band "But alas! what is taste? A disease of the mind, Though seductive, infirm-and though prais'd, undefin'd; 'Tis a whim-a mere shadow-a changeling-a gleamStill it mocks what we would, like the bliss of a dream." And the unfortunate man is viewed Through the dim shade his fate casts o'er him: CAMOENS. |