THE DUTCH AND THE ENGLISH IN NEW YORK.

THE first that attempted to enter this strait
(In anno one thousand six hundred and eight)
Was Hudson (the same that we mentioned before),
Who was lost in the gulf that he went to explore.
For a sum that they paid him (we know not how much)
This captain transferred all his rights to the Dutch;
For the time has been here (to the world be it known),
When all a man sailed by, or saw, was his own.
The Dutch on their purchase sat quietly down,

And fixed on an island to lay out a town;

They modeled their streets from the horns of a ram :

And the name that best pleased them was New Amster

dam.

They purchased large tracts from the Indians for beads,
And sadly tormented some runaway Swedes,

Who (none knows for what) from their country had flown,

To live here in peace, undisturbed and alone.

New Belgia the Dutch called their province, be sure;

But names never yet made possession secure,

For Charley (the Second that honored the name)

Sent over a squadron asserting his claim.

Had his sword and his title been equally slender,
In vain had they summoned Mynheer to surrender.
The soil they demanded, and threatened the worst,
Insisting that Cabot had looked at it first.
The want of a squadron to fall on their rear
Made the argument perfectly plain to Mynheer.
Force ended the contest; the right was a sham,
And the Dutch were sent packing to hot Surinam.
"Twas hard to be thus of their labors deprived,
But the age of Republics had not yet arrived.
Fate saw (though no wizard could tell them as much)
That the Crown in due time, was to fare like the Dutch.

THE BATTLE OF STONINGTON, CONN., AUGUST, 1814.

FOUR gallant ships from England came
Freighted deep with fire and flame,

And other things we need not name,
To have a dash at Stonington.

Now safely moored, their work begun;
They thought to make the Yankees run,
And have a mighty deal of fun

In stealing sheep at Stonington.
A deacon then popped up his head,
And Parson Jones his sermon read,
In which the reverend Doctor said

That they must fight for Stonington.
A townsman bade them, next, attend
To sundry resolutions penned,
By which they promised to defend

With sword and gun old Stonington.

The ships advancing different ways,
The Britons soon began to blaze,
And put old women in amaze,

Who feared the loss of Stonington.

The Yankees to their fort repaired,
And made as though they little cared
For all that came though very hard

The cannon played on Stonington.
The "Ramillies" began the attack,
"Despatch" came forward, bold and black,
And none can tell what kept them back
From setting fire to Stonington.

The bombardiers, with bomb and ball,
Soon made a farmer's barrack fall,
And did a cow-house sadly maul,

That stood a mile from Stonington.

They killed a goose, they killed a hen,
Three hogs they wounded in a pen;

They dashed

and
away,
This was not taking Stonington.

The shells were thrown, the rockets flew,

But not a shell of all they threw
Though every house was full in view

Could burn a house at Stonington.

To have their turn they thought but fair;
The Yankees brought two guns to bear;
And, Sir, it would have made you stare

This smoke of smokes at Stonington.

They bored the "Pactolus" through and through,
And killed and wounded of her crew

So many, that she bade adieu

To the gallant boys of Stonington.

The brig "Despatch" was hulled and torn –

So crippled, riddled, so forlorn,

No more she cast an eye of scorn

On the little fort at Stonington.

The "Ramillies" gave up the affray,
And with her comrades sneaked away:
Such was the valor, on that day,

Of British tars near Stonington.

But some assert on certain grounds-
Besides the damage and the wounds
It cost the king ten thousand pounds
To have a dash at Stonington.

THE WILD HONEYSUCKLE.

FAIR flower, that dost so comely grow,
Hid in this silent, dull retreat,
Untouched thy honeyed blossoms blow,
Unseen thy little branches greet.

No roving foot shall find thee here,
No busy hand provoke a tear.

By Nature's self in white arrayed,
She bade thee shun the vulgar eye,
And planted here the guardian shade,
And sent soft water murmuring by.
Thus quietly thy Summer goes,
Thy days declining to repose.

Smit with these charms that must decay,
I grieve to see thy future doom;
They died nor were those flowers less gay
(The flowers that did in Eden bloom).

Unpitying Frost, and Autumn's power,
Shall leave no vestige of this flower.

From Morning suns and Evening dews
At first thy little being came:
If nothing once you nothing lose,

VOL. IX. 22