The National Intelligencer And Washington Advertiser

FROM A LATE POEM:

Entitled Sorrows of Switzerland,

BY BOWLES.

Why art thou come, Man of Jesup and blood,
To these green vales, and streams o'erhung with wood?
This cotag'd glade, where again peace reclines,
Soothed by the whisper of his native pines;
Where, in the twilight of his closing days,
Upon the glimmering lake he loves to gaze
And like his life sees on the shadowy flood
The still-sweet eve descending? Man of Blood!
Ruin not his holy musings. Innocence
And Peace thence its inhabit: hie thee hence
To the vast wilderness, the tumultuous main,
To caves, where license and deep darkness reign:
Where God's eye only can the gloom pervade
And shroud thy visage in their dearest shade!
Or if these scenes so beautiful may inspire
A momentary softness in thine heart,
Let Nature plead—plead for a guiltless land—
Ere yet thou lift the desolating brand;
Ere yet thou bid the peaceful villages swell
With havoc's shout, and many a mingled yell!
Pause yet a moment! By the white hair
Of him whose tear-red eyes to Heav'n are raised:
By her, who frantic lifts her helpless hand—
By those poor little ones, that speechless stand—
If thou hast nature in thee, oh, relent!
Nor crush the lowly shed of virtue and content!

From the Boston Shield Chronicle.

To the People of Massachusetts On the repeal of the Excises.

[Continued.]