a contemporary hand, and
apparently the gift of a Philadelphian to an Englishman who had visited
the colonies. This would seem to be evident from the character of the
notes, which read sometimes like the following:

"This poem was written by Francis Hopkinson, _whom you will remember in
Philadelphia_." Unfortunately, many of the historical notes have been
cut away in the binding of the book. In this volume the author of the
poem in question is named and clearly defined. To James Sterling, the
author of "The Parricides" and "The Rival Generals," must be given
whatever credit this poem, written in Maryland, can confer upon its
author.

Among Sterling's other poetic contributions is to be noted "A
Pastoral--To his Excellency George Thomas, Esq., formerly Governor of
Pennsylvania, and now General of the Leeward Islands." This poem was
written in 1744, on the occasion of the death of Alexander Pope, by "one
of the first encouragers of this magazine." The Governor saw the
manuscript and gave permission for its publication. It is an invitation
to the muses to visit these lands:

"Haste lovely nymphs, and quickly come away,
Our sylvan gods lament your long delay;
The stately oaks that dwell on Delaware
Rear their tall heads to view you from afar.
The Naiads summon all their sealy crew
And at _Henlopen_ anxious wait for you.

* * * * *

But hark, they come! The _Dryads_ crowd the shore,
The waters rise, I hear the billows roar!
Hoarse Delaware the joyful tidings brings,
And all his swans, transported, clap their wings."

The author's apologetic introduction of these enthusiastic verses to the
editor is worth preserving:

"As this _poetical brat_ was conceived in _North America_, you may, if
you please, suffer it to give its first squeak in the world through the
channel of the _American Magazine_. But if it should appear of a
_monstrous_ nature, stifle the wretch by all means in the birth, and
throw it into the river _Delaware_, from whence, you will observe, it
originally sprung. The parent, I can assure you, will shed no tears at
the funeral. If _Saturn_ presided at its formation instead of _Apollo_,
it will want no _lead_ to make it sink, but fall quickly to the bottom
by its own natural heaviness, as I doubt not many other modern
productions, both in prose and verse,

('Sinking from thought to thought--a vast profound')

would have done, had they been put