Rambles about Portsmouth. Sketches of persons, localities, and incidents of two centuries: principally from tradition and unpublished documents. By Charles W. Brewster.

BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH, 19
But better news by far did Adam hear,
When woman's voice first hailed his raptured ear,News which, in later days, full well we know,
Lightens life's load of many a heavy woe.
But scarce our common parent rose from earth,
Inhaled the breath of life, and Eve had birth,
When twined the monster round the fatal tree,Dispelled their joy, content, and purity:
Then agonizing Nature brought to view 1
Ills which in Eden's bowers they never knew;
Then, at that hour accursed, that hour forlorn,
Bad News-the demon's first bequest-was born,
But, though ignobly born, to seek we're prone
The bad as well as good, and make our own
The knowledge of the griefs and woes of all
On whom the withering frowns of Fortune fall.
Bad news abundant since has filled our world;
War's bloody garments oft have been unfurled,The kindly parent oft been called to yield
Iis earthly hope to dye the ensanguined field;
Disease oft torn our dearest hopes away,
Tyrannic princes borne despotic sway;
And every day the reckless bearer'sbeen
Of evil tidings to the sons of men.
But change this picture of a darkened hue;
Let scenes more bright now open to the view:
Though things may change with ever-varying flow,
They do not bring to all unmingled woe.
Do millions mourn a kingdom's fallen state?
A Caesar hails the news with joy elate.
Does drought or frost destroy the planter's hope,
And climes more genial yield a fruitful crop?
Enhanced by contrast, these delight the more
In the good tidings of their bounteous store.
Does "the insatiate archer" claim a prize?
The weeping friend, the heir with tearless eyes,
Show joy is oft the associate of grief,
And pain to some, to others is relief.
Full many ages, centuries rolled along,
Ere news a record found, the press a tongue.
From sire to son, tradition's tale was told,
Or musty parchment spoke the days of old.;
No minor incidents of passing time
Ere filled a page or occupied a rhyme;
No wars of politics on paper fought,
And few the favored ones by science taught.
Minerva saw the dreary waste below,
And urged the gods their bounties to bestow,
The mind of man to chaste refinement bring,
And ope to all the pure Pierian spring
The gods convened; but still Minerva frowned:
Not one of all their gifts her wishes crowned,