University of Virginia Library

The following small collection of poems was sent us from an ingenious clergyman in Virginia. Their merit sufficiently entitles them to a place in our Magazine, and engages us warmly to sollicit the continuance of the author's correspondence.

One or two inaccuracies in the rhymes he has industriously disregarded, not thinking it worth his while, perhaps, to mangle the sublime sense of the passages for the sake of such critical nicety. Yet this might possibly have been avoided, and it may be thought carelessness, tho' we hope it is not unpardonable carelessness.

Gentlemen

Tho' it is my misfortune to live at a distance from your metropolis, and in a colony where your magazines, tho' an object of general curiosity, are not likely to circulate, till the post become a more cheap and sure medium of conveyance; yet I feel myself interested in your design. A design that so directly tends to promote not only the literary honour, but the real utility, of these infant colonies; and that bears so favourable an aspect upon the progress of religion, learning and good policy. I would willingly contribute my quota to carry it to perfection: But neither my leisure nor abilities can give you sanguine expectations from me. And I am glad to find, by the perusal of the numbers already published, that you have so little need of my assistance. However, I allow your claim to whatever is in my power. Now and then I may perhaps send you some scraps of poetry, or criticisms upon the sacred classics (my favourite study) or some fortuitous thoughts, upon subjects that are not now in my view; the careless productions of some future hour of leisure; or extracts from my old manuscripts, which would have lain by me in perpetual secresy, had you not thrown this agreeable temptation in my way to make them public. These you may lend to my devout friend the Hermit, or insert in separate articles, as you may think proper. And I beg leave to inform you once for all, that I have no such στοργη or paternal fondness for my own productions, as to take it ill, if you should delay their publication, or entirely suppress them. On the other hand, I appoint you licensers of the press for me, and charge you to publish nothing of mine, to which you cannot safely prefix your Imprimatur. It would be stupid arrogance to insist, that you should humour me, at the expence of the public approbation. Whether I hear from myself thro' the medium of your magazine, or not.

There is a soft pleasing melancholy that runs thro' the first part of the CXXXIX [i.e., CXXXVII] Psalm, composed by some pious patriot-captive on the banks of the Euphrates. And at the request of a friend, the following version of it, fitted to a proper tune, has been attempted: But like all other translations of sacred poetry, it falls infinitely short of the divine original.

The following extract from a hymn sung at the initiation into the Eleusinian mysteries, is a curious orthodox relique of heathen antiquity, strongly asserting the unity and perfection of the Diety.

Yesterday the annual Commencent was held here. The Revd. Mr. Samuel Davies, lately elected President of the College of New-Jersey, delivered a Latin Oration, to the universal Applause of all his learned and numerous Auditors. The young Gentlemen (about 25 in Number) who were admitted to the usual Degrees in the Arts, performed the accustomed Exercises with uncommon Facility and Correctness. The whole Ceremony concluded with the followed ODE, set to Music by Mr. James Lyon, and of the Students.

The following Translation of a Latin Poem of Doctor Watts, in his Horae Lyricae. On the divine Love and Sufferings of our Saviour Jesus Christ for Mankind, By the Rev. Mr. Davies, late President of the College of New-Jersey, was intended for our Paper in Easter Week, but omitted by Accident.