E'en to Jove's temple; many a warlike son
Around me stood, and bore the spoils we won!
That chief am I, for whom th' exulting cry
Of thronging myriads clave th' astounded sky,
As me they hail'd, 'The guard of Latium's field,'
My 'Country's father,' 'Rome's ne'er failing shield!'
Look on me now! an outcast wretch,-alone-
Spurn'd-hated-exil'd-doom'd-yet wand'ring on
To find, (if such on earth remain for me,)
A home whose safety is obscurity.

"When first my steps I hither turn'd, methought
I here, at last, have found the spot I sought.
Here shall I rest secure!-And, though the foe
Commands me hence, still shall my bosom glow;
Still, still my exil'd heart shall own it sweet
To see thee, Carthage, thus-beneath my feet :-
Well doth it please me-well console my heart,
That thou, Rome's rival once, now prostrate art,
To know thy fortune with thy walls o'erthrown,
And feel an equal ruin in my own.

"But yet (from omen true I judge) our lot,
Though e'en to this alike, resembles not.
Through endless ages thou shalt silent rest,
An unknown spot, by ruin's weight oppress'd.
Yes; there, despis'd, dishonor'd shalt thou lie,
Nor e'er again, as once, from tow'rs on high,
Shalt thou the sea o'erlook, as far and wide
Thy fleets, all-glorious, spurn, the swelling tide.
No more, renown'd in war, shall ever see
Another chief, all-conquering, spring from thee,
Whose arm ne'er waves for less than victory.

"Not so with me

e-the gods a better fate To Marius deign-me glory, fame await!

Again for Rome shall I undaunted arm;

My name through hostile troops still spread alarm; I yet shall see my country's blest abodes,

And bow once more to my paternal gods!

"But think not now with unstain'd hand I'll come,
I'll write my insults in the blood of Rome!
By those all-sacred chiefs-those heroes blest,
Who, slumb'ring, now in peaceful ashes rest;
Once o'er the world illustrious for their ire,
And like another Jove, whose angry fire
Lays waste a victim world-by these I swear,
And chief by him who made proud Carthage there,
From Afric's queen, become the lion's lair;
By Scipio's self, beneath whose conquering blade
The first foundations of my fame were laid,
Ye gods, I swear! if ever more I gain
Th' ensigns of power-it shall not be in vain.
That foe, to whom no pains can now atone,
Who insult heaps on wrong, shall hear the groan
Of ev'ry friend that's dear-shall drink the sigh,
The latest sigh, they breathe-his wond'ring eye
Shall see to heaven the funeral piles aspire,
But not one friend shall rescue from the fire!
Nor this enough!-I will not here be staid,
Nought shall suffice till his atonement's paid-
Till Marius sees, by his revenging hand,
Curst Sylla fall'n, and writhing in the sand!

"First perish Rome in fire-consuming heat!
Thou angry sword, first rage in ev'ry street!
Perish my country! All the Roman name!
Her riches, honours, glory, virtue, fame!
Ere Sylla 'scape the vengeance I design,
And fly, unscath'd, by this right hand of mine :
Ere from a lord imperious Marius deign

An exile's fate to brook, or wear a traitor's chain."

MYTTON.

}

HAPPINESS.

Oh happiness, our being's end and aim.-POPE.

Justly has the poet denominated happiness our being's aim; but alas, how seldom is it attained! Object alike of young and old, rich and poor, prince and peasant, it allures us, as the deceitful mirage entices the thirsty traveller of the desert, and eludes our eager grasp, like the fleeting and unsubstantial shadow. Yet, still its charms, real or imaginary, have been the centre of attraction to countless myriads, and will continue to be so, until time is swallowed up in eternity. For however the dwellers upon earth may differ in circumstances, character, or acquirements, they are, in this pursuit, unanimous; and press forward, with one common ardor, to the wishedfor goal of happiness. But, when we reflect on the various, nay, innumerable, and very frequently most contradictory methods, by which men endeavour to procure the completion of this their universal wish, we are almost tempted to consider it an ignis fatuus-a splendid bauble which glitters only to deceive and weary its ardent followers.

So various, or rather so totally opposite, are the ideas which different men attach to this important word, that to define it precisely according to worldly notions, would be an attempt nearly as absurd as to describe a circle with unequal radii; for how often we see that, which is the summit of felicity to one, viewed with indifference, perhaps contempt, by another. But those, who, raising their thoughts above the empty vanities of this lower world, consider happiness with a sober and unbiassed judgment, will readily admit that there is but one true path pointed out by nature, and more fully disclosed by revelation, that will ever conduct us to the regions of felicity; and that path it is which proud, yet foolish man, relying on the unsteady light of reason, will on account of some trifling asperities, abandon for tracks apparently indeed easier, but which will inevitably lead

M

him to misery and destruction. His pride and self-sufficiency revolt at the idea of being led; and, puffed up by carnal knowledge, he quits the guidance of indulgent Heaven, to follow the workings of his own arrogant imagination. Let it not be supposed that I would insinuate all are such; I speak but of those, who, turning away from the light our beneficent Creator has afforded them, veil themselves in that darkness so congenial to their corrupt and impenitent hearts. It shall be my humble endeavour to point out the deceitfulness and instability of those pleasures on which such men rely, and then, to shew what constitutes true felicity, and the only means by which it can be acquired.

They who desert the right way, and pursue paths which they vainly think will conduct them to happiness, generally give themselves up either to sensual pleasure, indolent ease, to the enjoyment of riches and greatness, or follow that phantom falsely designated glory. I say, generally, because, although various other baubles, under the guise of happiness, entice mankind from the proper scope of their exertions, yet still we must confess that the empty shadows, above enumerated, are the objects which commonly prove so attractive to the human race. With respect to the sensualist, it has been a maxim established from the remotest periods of antiquity, that the pleasures of the mind are preferable to those of the body, from whence we may safely assert that they afford superior gratification. Besides, if we for a moment reflect, we cannot but perceive that they are more refined, more exquisite, and more durable, than any delights corporeal pleasures produce. The latter are but momentary, and frequently leave behind them either regret or remorse; whereas happiness, as perfect as can be enjoyed in this frail state of being, is constant, of a calm and equable flow; and should any unlooked-for occurrence interrupt its unruffled progress,

"For e'en in the tranquillest climes Light breezes will ruffle the flowers sometimes,"

the very interruption will make its possessor more sensi

bly alive to the bliss it confers. Sensuality degrades us to a level with the brutes that perish; but man's immortal soul was formed for far nobler ends than any earthly pleasures can produce. How inadequate then must be the delights of sense to gratify the cravings of an eternal spirit!

Happiness cannot consist in indolence; since an attentive examination of our nature must convince us, that we are beings designed for exertion; and we know that our talents, unless cultivated, become not only useless, but also a means by which the great enemy of mankind carries on his designs against our eternal, as well as temporal welfare. Indolent ease is but another name for idleness; and, that idleness is the root of all evil, no one surely will hesitate to allow. In proportion as evil abounds, happiness must decrease; for that state of mind which contains the elements of misery is the necessary consequence of the prevalence of vice. Felicity, then, it follows, cannot spring from this source, and it would be equally absurd to expect it from riches and greatness; for how often do we see the most affluent and powerful, who have not a wish, however inordinate, which it is nct in their power to satisfy, enduring calamities which never fall to the lot of those in the humbler grades of life to encounter.

The experience of all ages, as well as the feelings of humanity, must convince us that it cannot be acquired by devastating the globe, and butchering thousands of our fellow-creatures, in order that the glorious conqueror, as he is falsely termed, may lord over more millions, and sway a greater extent of territory than other monarchs. Let the latter days of the unconquered son of Philip operate as a salutary warning to all who endeavor to arrive at happiness by wading through seas of blood. Tortured by the remembrance of past cruelties, and terrified by gloomy apprehensions of futurity, he sought, by dissipation, to relieve his anxious breast from the stings of a wounded conscience, until overcome by disease, he sank into an untimely grave.

Can happiness be called the result of his unequalled