Page:The Poets and Poetry of the West.djvu/129

 NATHANIEL WRIGHT Nathaniel "Wright was born at Hanover, New Hampshire, on the twenty-eighth day of January, 1789. He graduated at Dartmouth College in 1811, and emigrated to Cincinnati in 1816. At the November term of the Supreme Court of Ohio, at Steu- benville, 1817, he was admitted to the bar. He immediately began the practice of his profession, and was, for many years, distinguished in the Hamilton County Courts. Between 1817 and 1820 he was one of a club of young men of literary proclivities, who contributed ai'ticles to the newspapers of Cincinnati " from an old garret." Na- than Guilford, Bellamy Storer, and Benjamin F. Powers were also members of the •' Garret Club." " The Mountain Storm " was contributed to the Western Souvenir in 1829. Since briefs first began to multiply in his office, Mr. Wright has neglected the muses. TO A FLY, WHICH LIT ON SIT BOOK DECEMBER ELEVENTH, 1813. Sit down, old friend, I feel no spite, Though conscience tells you well I might ; Sit down : — your knees are weak and old. Your teeth are chattei-ing with the cold ; That leaf shall be your spacious bed, And not a breath shall harm your head. Some months ago, my reverend fly, When summer's sun was in the sky, Nature alive and you were young. You laughed, you frolicked, danced and sung ; Slept the short nights in peace away, Banquets and ladies all the day; Yours the first sip from choicest dishes, Yours the first glass and all your wishes. Scepters and crowns, and robes of gold. Your feet have trampled, proud and bold : Bosom and cheek of human fair Were oft your carpet or your chair ; The earth was yours with all its grace. The spacious heavens your dwelling-place. But, ah ! the cold November skies Made dreadful havoc of the flies ; Thousands on thousands by your side Curled up their little legs and died : You, left alone, all pleasure fled. Remain, an outcast of the dead. Like some old man of wretched lot. Whom time has stripp'd and death forgot. THE MOUNTAIN STORM. The friend of ease, in lowland grove, May lull his cares, and tend his love ; See, but not mark, the languid plain, A wide, a wear}^, blank domain; In long and deep repose may view Eai'th's pleasant green, and vault of blue, Till soft he sinks, with sleep oppress'd, Beneath th' untroubled sod to rest : — Give me the scene of uproar wild ! The mountain cliffs in rudeness piled. The summits bold, amid the sky. Where the clouds pause, that journey by ; Or, as the storm's hoar torrent spreads. Gambols the lightning round their heads ; The scene untamed, that fills the breast With other feelings far than rest, That tempts the thought to other charms, Than Flora's lap, or Morpheus' arms. (113) 8