Thus, ere night's veil had half obscur'd the sky, Th' impatient damsel hung her lamp on high : True to the signal, by love's meteor led, Leander hasten'd to his Hero's bed.

EPISTLE IX.

THE

ACADEMIC SPORTSMAN;

OR,

A WINTER'S DAY.

BY THE REV. GERALD FITZGERALD.

THE feather'd game that haunt the hoary plains,
Where ice-bound winter hangs in chrystal chains;
The mimic thunder of the deep-mouth'd gun,
By lightning usher'd and by death outrun ;
The spaniel springing on the new-fall'n prey,
The friend attendant and the spirits gay-
These are the scenes which lured my earliest days,
And scenes like these continue still to please.

Oft when I've seen the new-fledg'd morn arise, And spread its pinions to the polar skies; Th' expanded air with gelid fragrance fan, Brace the slack nerves and animate the man: Swift from the college, and from cares I flew, (For studious cares solicit something new) From tinkling bells that wake the truant's fears, And letter'd trophies of three thousand years;

Through length'ning streets with sanguine hopes I

glide,

The fatal tube depending at my side;

No busy vender dins with clam'rous call,
No rattling carriage drives me to the wall;
The close-compacted shops, their commerce laid,
In silence frown like mansions of the dead-
Save, where the sooty-shrouded wretch cries "Sweep,"
Or drowsy watchman stalks in broken sleep,
'Scap'd from the hot-brain'd youth of midnight fame;
Whose mirth is mischief, and whose glory fame-
Save, that from yonder stew the batter'd beau,
With tott'ring steps, comes reeling to and fro—
Mark, how the live-long revels of the night
Stare in his face, and stupify his sight!
Mark the loose frame, yet impotently bold,
'Twixt man and beast, divided empire hold!
Amphibious wretch! the prey of passion's tide,
The wreck of riot and the mock of pride.

But we, my friend, with aims far diff'rent born,
Seek the fair fields, and court the blushing morn;
With sturdy sinews brush the frozen snow,
While crimson colors on our faces glow.
Since life is short, prolong it while we can,
And vindicate the ways of health to man.

To yonder vales that spread beneath the hills, Where Miltown river winds with murm'ring rills,

Onward our course diversify'd we bend,
And right and left with anxious care attend;
The poring spaniel, studious as he goes,
Scents every leaf that on the margin grows,
Sudden he stops !-he eyes the plashy spring!
The frighted snipe darts upward on the wing,
With shrill-ton'd pipe implores the passive air,
In vain! for death e'en persecutes him there-
Another springs; but, happier in his flight,
'Scapes the loud gun, and vanishes from sight.

The sport begun, and panting still for breath, With arms recruited for the work of death, Pleas'd we behold the gay transparent gleam Of frozen lakes, that skirts the purling stream, With inlaid figures and mosaic wrought, With margin rich and lucid pendants fraught

'Till lively Ranger chides our long delay, Gambols around, then forward springs away.

Heaven! what delights my active mind renew, When out-spread nature opens to my view, The carpet-cover'd earth of spangled white, The vaulted sky, just ting'd with purple light; The busy blackbird hops from spray to spray, The gull, self-balanc'd, floats his liquid way; The morning breeze in milder air retires, And rising rapture all my bosom fires,

In incense wafted to the throne on high,

To Him who form'd the earth-the air-the sky,
Who gives me health and vigor to enjoy,

Guides me e'en now, and guarded when a boy-
Accept, great GOD! the fervor of my prayer,
And, as before, continue still thy care,
Oft' as I view thee in creation's dress,
Be mine to praise thee, as 'tis thine to bless.

While fervid flights my lifted fancy takes, The wary woodcock rustles through the brakes, With hasty pinions wings his rapid course, 'Till death pursues him, arm'd with double force; Each gun discharg'd, and conscious of its aim, Asserts the prize, and holds the dubious claim; 'Till chance decides the long-contested spoil, Proclaims the victor, and rewards his toil.

His luckless fate, immediate to repair, The baffled sportsman beats with forward care, Each bush explores, that plats the hedge with pride, Brooks at it's feet, and brambles at it's sideAnother bird, just flushing at the sound,

Scarce tops the fence, then tumbles to the ground.

Ah! what avails him now the varnish'd dye, The tortoise-color'd back, the brilliant eye, The pointed bill that steers his vent❜rous way From northern climes, and dar'd the boisterous sea?