« AnteriorContinuar »
that lock has not been turned these scrupulous of them speak well of Bi(wenty years, but at a premium of ble Societies, like missions to the abtwelve per cent. for all that was re- origines within our borders, and that stored to locomotion and the light of charity which begins at home. So, day, and I do assure you sir, that sir, when the charity of the SHORTwhen any benevolent institution can SIGHT family has done its work of give me as good a premium, I will beneficence in their own neighbourturn my trunk bottom upwards, upoo hood, they will put on their specthe treasury, that shall open to re tacles and conduct the impatient ceive its willing contents.
streams of their benevolence into the Another family inferior in respec- treasury of the nearest charitable intability, but not distantly allied to the stitution, and when the time comes, two former by blood, is the notorious happy are the benevolent societies family of the STINGYS. These it who are next to them. might be thought would be avowed MR. CANT-BEAR-TO-THINK, the enemies to all charitable institutions; family is extremely numerous, said and some of them, I believe a majority, that he approved of the religious charare, but still there is a large and hon- ities of the day exceedingly, for that ourable minority, who, if they may having somewhat of an itch for read. be believed, are exceeding friendly ing, he had never, till lately, been acto these things; but they do not like, commodated with communications, indeed they do not like any one thing constant, interesting, and obvious that has been done, is doing, or is without mental effort. In early life like to be done. They differ in o- he had read doctrinal magazines and pinion as to the time, the place, the arguments greatly to the injury of vays and means, the instruments, the his ease, he had always had an infirpast effects, or the good to be expect- mity in his bead which he believed ed from any existing course, and to was constitutional in his family, which be sure they are honest doubtless in rendered close thinking painful, and their dissent from others, and have a produced alarming symptoms.
It right to think for themselves, and are drew the eyes from staring into vacuas they often assure me, willing to be ity in parallel lines, to the converconvinced if they are wrong.
gency of angular intersection, not Now, Sir, I presume you will be of more than ten inches from the nose, opinion with me, that a golden har- and produced a contraction of the skin vest of charity waves in the fields of upon the forehead as if the surface of the STINGY families, for they are gen- the head were about to shrivel up, aterally rich, and being willing to be tended with such a loss of ideas withconvinced, and the arguments being in, in proportion to his efforts to inclear and unanswerable in favour of troduce them from without, as made charitable institutions, the gold and the experiment always cost more than silver will be measured soon, instead it came to; but since charitable inof counted—will be poured into the stitutions had been got up, there was Lord's treasury, good measure, press an abundance of new, and easy readed down, shaken together, and run- ing, and if he thought there was the ning over.
least danger of their failure, he would The family of the SHORTSights, subscribe a dollar a year himself, somewhat numerous in our land, do were it only for the noise they make, oot approve, it must be owned, of and he believed many of his family Foreign Missions, nor all of them of would do the same. Domestic Missions ; but the most
The following Poem was spoken in the Chapel of Yale College on the 18th
instant, at the conclusion of the Senior Examination, in the presence of the Faculty, the students, and a respectable audience. Its author, Me. ALANSON BENEDICT, has, at the request of the Editor, consented to its publication.
Long have the zephyrs in Æolian caves
Restrain'd their fury from the peaceful waves.
Long has gay Pleasure, wak'd her halcyon strain,
And skimm'd the surface of the tranquil main.
But now the winds arise :—the swelling gales
Sweep o'er the seas and revel in the sails.
Our bark is launch'd ;-aloft the streamers play;
The signal calls;-and we must haste away.
Here have we met upon the crowded strand,
To heave the sigh, and grasp the parting hand.
These downcast looks ;—this solemn stillness shows
How pure the beam of genuine friendship glows;
How sharp the pangs that read our aching heart
As Fate decrees “ we must forever part."
Oh! should one thought unfriendly yet remain
To wound our love,—to aggravate our pain ;
Here let us pause ;-and ere the breezes sweep
Our poor, frail bark along th' unfathom’d deep,
Round Friendship's altar as our pray'r ascends,
Plight our firm faith forever to be friends.
Then, as sad Mem'ry weaves the mournful wreath,
And plucks the willow from the gloomy heath,
The myrtle branch shall in the texture flow,
And Wisdom's olive wave upon our brow.
Sweet is the mem'ry of departed days,
Cheer'd by the glow of fond affection's rays :
And sweet the visions which gay Fancy rears,
When Youth looks forward thro' his op'ning years.
Her ken, like lightning, darts thro' realms of night.
And boundless prospects burst upon the sight.
Blooming in beauty, fancied Edens rise,
And isles of pleasure tempt his longing eyes.
His eager hopes on gilded phantoms feed ;
New prospects open as the old recede;
Till Fancy's wing, with varied plumage gay,
Tires 'mid th' effulgence of illusive day,
Maturer years with equal ardor glow,
Pleas'd with the glitt'rings of a specious show.
The steep of Fame its flow'ry paths displays,
And Glory's portals on the summit blaze.
Hope's beaming eye, with rapture views the sight,
While eagle Fancy wings the giddy height.
Fannd by desire, there eager mortals crowd,
The young, the old, the lowly and the proud.
By various ways, the motley throng ascend,
The same their ardor, and ibe same their end.
Beneath the shadow of th' imperial crown,
The courtier seeks the bubble of renown.
The blood-staiu'd warrior tempts the jaws of Death,
To bind his temples with the laurel wreath;
While Genius, dazzled by the meteor fame,
Keeps his pale vigils by the midnight dame.
Hard is the lot of man ;-his hopes are doom'd
To feel the blast before they well have bloom'd.
The murm’ring rill sounds sweetly in his ear;
He stoops to drink, but ab! no rill is near.
The feast is spread before his longing eyes;
Yet ere he tastes, the airy vision Gies.
Resplendent meteors blazon in his view,
Promise success and beckon to pursue ;
But, like grim ghosts that haunt the hour of night,
Elude his grasp, then vanish from his sight.
Go:-read yon graveyard where Narcissus weep,
And the lone thistle guards sepulchral sleep;
Where in sad accents Philomela sings,
And the death-raven flaps his gloomy wings.
There ;-as you view the sorr'wing cypress bow,
And point the stranger to the tomb of Howe ;*
Think, oh! my classmates! on the bustling strife,
And vague enjoyments of this feeling lise.
Fair was his moro ;-his brightning sun rose fair,
And pour’d its radiance on the fragrant air.
All Nature smil'd :-the blushing heavens look'd gay;
All, all assur'd a cloudless, happy day.
But ere his orb had reach'd the mid day height,
Its glories sunk in everlasting night.
Peace to his soul;
the weeping Muses cry;
Peace to his soul;-our bleeding hearts reply.
And we, my friends! now taste this world's alloy,
And mourn the dart that wounds expected joy.
Where now those hours;—those silent, blissful hours,
By Science crown'd beneath these lovely tow’rs ?
Where now th' enjoyment of the scenes we love,
The flowry landscape and the shady grove?
These peaceful pleasures, and these joys sublime,
Now lie beneath the mould'ring urn of Time.
No more we mingle in the social scene,
Or smile at Care upon the lufted green.
No more yon elms, their waving branches spread,
To lend sweet succour to our weary
Nor yon palestra hears our sportive bound,
As the light foot-ball skims along the ground. * A deceased classmate, to whose memory his class have erected an elegant mok: ument, as an expression of their affection and respect.
Vol. 3No. VII. 45
Can c'er Oblivion from our minds efface,
The smiling aspect of this much-lov'd place?
No :-while Affection's gentle reigo shall last,
Or faithful Mem'ry gaze upon the past;
Tho' Afric's sun should beat upon our head,
Or polar snows around our path be spread;
Still shall we prize, tho' from its pleasures driv'n,
This Paradise ;-- his vicinage of heav'n.
Oft, as Aurora usher'd in the dawn,
We've brush'd the dew-drop froin the flow'ry lawn,
Or trac'd the windings of the gentle rill,
Or hail'd the zephyrs on the rising hill;
Or paus'd to listen to the city's hum,
The sportsman's whistle, or the pheasant's drum.
Oft have those groves, where nimble Dryads tread,
Reard the soft pillow for our weary head,
While murm'ring cascades closd the heavy eye,
And Nature's songsters tun'd their lullaby.
Ost have we climbid yon mountain's dizzy brow,
And drank the richness of the scene below.
There have we sat and view'd th' extended plain,
The distant mountains and the wat'ry main.
Here-Ceres' reapers tun'd th' inspiring song,
Cropt the rich grain and smil'd the time along;
Or domes and villas met th' enraptur'd eye,
And spires and temples tow'ring to the sky.
There—sons of Neptune bade the breezes hail,
And spread their canvass to the rising gale;
Or the proud ship her lofty streamers bore,
Fraught with rich burdens to her native shore;
While friends and kindred throng’d around the strand,
Eager to see, and grasp the welcome hand.
And oft we've view'd from that aerial height,
Meand'ring West slow rolling in our sight,
Where, as pale Sirius rul’d the summer's day,
We've plung'd, and rose, and dash'd the foaming spray.
Alas! no more its margin bears our feet,
Or its cool waters quench the dog-star's heat.
No more we roam the smiling landscape o'er,
Or trace the windiogs of the sea-giri shore;
Or tread the mountain or the shady dell,
The Judges' refuge,* or the Hermit's cell.
These smiling villas and these lofty tow'rs,
The murm’ring fountains and the shady bow'rs,
Can charm no more;—no more these prospects rise
To cheer our hearts and glad our longing eyes.
Scenes of our youth ! farewell ;-and lovely Yale!
Our voices falter as we bid thee hail.
These throbbing hearts, bear witness how we love
Thy hallowed walls;—thy consecrated grove. A cave on West Rock, where three of the Judges who condemned Charles I. were for a time concealed.
+On the summit of East Rock, is the cell of an Hermit, a favourite resort of the students of Yale College.
Dear are the pleasures,-gay the social sweets,
We here have tasted in thy blissful seats.
Oft will fond Fancy in our future hours,
Inhale the fragrance of thy shady bowers ;
Oft, like Creusa's ghost, will Mem’ry roam,
O'er this lov'd spot, we once could call our home.
Long may the splendors of thy matchless fame
Shine like the vestal's unextinguish'd flame,
Long in thy walls may rays of Science beam,
And pure Religion swell her mighty Theme.
In thee may Athens see her glories shine,
And Rome's proud splendors glitter on thy shrine.
In thee may Freedom's voice some Tully find,
To roll its thunders o'er the subject mind.
From thee may bards arise, to strike the lyre,
With Virgil's judgment, and with Homer's fire ;
Whose strains shall raise Columbia's envied name,
To the bright regions of immortal Fame.
Long may thy domes, by Virtue's patrons rear'd,
Adorn'd by Taste; by Science still rever'd,
Like the firm nave, with mountain vigour stand,
The pride and glory of our common land.
And should the sun of intellectual light,
Again leave Europe in a mental night :
Should Gothic seas break up their mighty deep,
And Vandal tempests thro’ the welkin sweep;
Then, as the Muses fly their seats in haste,
And seek a shelter in the wat'ry waste,
To thy fair mansions may they turn their sail,
And find a refuge in the walls of Yale.
And you, ye Guardians of our youthful days,
Your care demands our love ;- your worth our praise.
Long in these blissful seats by Heav'n design'd,
You've rock'd the cradle of our infant mind.
Beneath your care the mental world entomb’d,
Has blush'd in beauty, and with verdure bloom’d.
Cimmerian Dullness, with her dismal train,
Fled the waste empire of the giddy brain :
While kindling Genius spread his wings on high,
And soar'd exulting to bis native sky.
In you we've seen the faithful critic blend,
His painful duties with the feeling friend;
And, while you form’d the manners; prun’d the taste,
A parent's smile the arduous office grac'd.
For this kind care :- we shun the gloss of art,--
Accept the tribute of a grateful heart.
Your names shall live ou Mem’ry's faithful page,
Rever'd in youth, and lov'd to latest age.
Long may your days by Heav'n's best blessings crown'd,
In bright succession run their peaceful round.
Long o'er these happy seats may you preside,
The boast of Alma and Columbia's pride.
Adieu! ye Youth, who follow in the race,
And thro’ lise's vale our hasty footsteps trace.