companions upon that occasion being Bryant and Halleck. We may be permitted one further quotation from this representative Hudson River poet. It is from a short poem called Indian Summer, written in 1828: Light as love's smiles, the silvery mist at morn Floats in loose flakes along the limpid river ; The blue bird's notes upon the soft breeze bofne, As high in air he carols, faintly quiver; Digitized by Microsoft® Literary Associations of the Hudson 257 The weeping birch, like banners idly waving, Bends to the stream, its spicy branches laving; Beaded with dew, the witch elm's tassels shiver; The timid rabbit from the furze is peeping. And from the springy spray the squirrel 's gaily leaping. In 1850, while occupying a government position at Washington, Hoffman was stricken with mental dis- order, from which he did not recover. He lived in retirement thirty-four years, outliving his companions and his fame. Fitz-Greene Halleck, whose name is on our roster next to that of Paulding, was a Connecticut boy. His first visit to New York was made in 1808, and was an event to which the metropolis may point with pride, for no native-born son of Manhattan, with the blood of all the Dams and Bilts and Blinkers in his veins, ever became more intimately associated with the city. His celebrated friendship for Joseph Rodman Drake, — a memory embalmed in the exquisite tribute of verse that he paid at the latter 's death — ^commenced in 181 3, when the future author of Marco Bozzaris had been two years away from his Connecticut skies. Their joint production were the papers signed " Croaker and Co.," published in the Evening Post in 1819. That same year, Halleck wrote the long poem, Fanny, in which occur the lines on Weehawken, which will be found in another chapter. Almost at the very end of his long life, the poet wrote from Fort Lee, on the Hudson, to Lewis Gaylord Clarke : Digitized by Microsoft® 258 The Hudson River I hope thou wilt not banish hence These few and fading flowers of mine, But let their theme be their defence — The love, the joy, the frankincense And fragrance of Langsyne. Drake's claim to association with the Hudson River rests on his beautiful and imaginative creation, The Culprit Fay, which was composed among the High- lands in the same year that saw the production of the "Croaker" papers and of Fanny. The story goes that while walking with some friends, one of them remarked to the poet that, without the introduction of human characters it would be next to impossible to write a purely imaginative fairy poem. Drake accepted this as a challenge, and in a very short time submitted to his associates the manuscript of the work upon which rests his principal title to fame. The scheme or plot of The Culprit Fay is familiar. A fairy has stained his wings and lost the light of his torch by falling in love with a mortal maid. The de- cree of the King is that he must wash the stain away with a drop of water, caught in a colen-bell from the spray scattered on the river by the leap of a sturgeon. The torch must be relighted by a spark from a meteor. Some of the descriptions are exquisite, as in the lines: Onward still he held his way. Till he came where the column of moonshine lay, And saw beneath the surface dim The brown-back'd sturgeon slowly swim; Around him were the goblin train — • Digitized by Microsoft® Literary Associations of the Hudson 259 But he scull'd with all his might and main, And follow'd wherever the sturgeon led, Till he saw him upward point his head ; Then he dropp'd his paddle blade. And held his colen-goblet up To catch the drop in its crimson cup. With sweeping tail and quivering fin, Through the wave the sturgeon flew. And, like the heaven-shot javelin. He sprung above the waters blue. Instant as the star-fall light. He plunged him in the deep again, But left an arch of silver bright, The rainbow of, the moony main. It was a strange and lovely sight To see the puny goblin there ; He seem'd an angel form of light. With azure wing and sunny hair, Throned on a cloud of purple fair. Circled with blue and edged with white, And sitting at the fall of even Beneath the bow of summer heaven. A moment, and its lustre fell; But ere it met the billow blue. He caught within his crimson bell A droplet of its sparkling dew — Joy to thee, Fay! thy task is done; Thy wings are pure, for the gem is won. Cheerily ply thy dripping oar. And haste away