oblet crown with wines,
And drink the cordial juice,
Europe itself can't boast such vines
As these bless'd hills produce.

Yes, Germany's the copious source
Of wines that all excel;
So mild, so generous, full of force,
None cheer the heart so well.

Rhingau alone such grapes can boast,
Huzza! here's to the Rhine!
And may the wretch, who slights the toast,
Forget the taste of wine.

Come, drink about, and let's be gay,
With nectar so divine,
Is any man to grief a prey?
We'll comfort him with wine.

_Port Folio_, V-110, Apr. 13, 1805, Phila.

EPIGRAMS.
From the German of G. E. Lessing.

Adam awhile in Paradise
Enjoy'd his novel life:
He was caught napping; in a thrice
His rib was made a wife.

Poor father Adam, what a guest!
This most unlucky dose
Made the first minute of thy rest
The last of thy repose.

* * * * *

But one bad woman at a time
On earth arises.
That every one should think he has her,
I own--surprises.

* * * * *

A long way off--Lucinda strikes the men.
As she draws near,
And one see clear,
A long way off--one wishes her again.

_Phila. Repos._, V-128, Apr. 20, 1805, Phila.

In Dr. Cogan's amusing and _Shandean_ Travels on the Rhine, he has
preserved a _German_ Ode to Evening. They, who are curious to behold
the _Teutonic_ Muse, in the character of a pensive minstrel, may here
be gratified.

Komm, stiller abend, neider,
Auf unsre kleine flur;
Dir toenen unsre lieder,
Wie schoen bist du, natur!

Schon steigt die abendroethe
Herab ins kuehle thal;
Bald glantz in sanfter roethe
Der sonne letzter strahl.

All uberal herrscht schweigen
Nur schwingt der vogel chor
Hoch aus den dunkeln zweigen
Den nacht gesang empor.

Komm, lieber abend, neider
Auf unsre kleine flur;
Dir toenen unsre lieder,
Wie schoen bist du natur.

TRANSLATION.

Come, silent Eve, return again,
Our homely cottage view,
And hear us sing a cheerful strain,
To thee, and nature due.

The sun retires yon hills behind,
And sinks into the sea,
Glancing his rays both mild and kind,
Oh,