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none that does not lead to that! Come the liberty that shall strike off every chain, not only of iron, and iron-law, but of painful constriction, of fear, of enslaving passion, of mad selfwill; the liberty of perfect truth and love, of holy faith and glad obedience!
86. THE INQUIRY.
ELL me, ye winged winds, that round my pathway roar, Do ye not know some spot where mortals weep no more? Some lone and pleasant dell, some valley in the west, Where, free from toil and pain, the weary soul may rest? The loud wind dwindled to a whisper low, And sighed for pity as it answered "No."
2. Tell me, thou mighty deep, whose billows round me play, Know'st thou some favored spot, some island far away, Where weary man may find the bliss for which he sighs,— Where sorrow never lives, and friendship never dies?
The loud waves, rolling in perpetual flow,
Stopped for a while, and sighed to answer-"No."
3. And thou, serenèst moon, that, with such lovely face,
Behind a cloud the moon withdrew in woe,
4. Tell me, my secret soul;-oh! tell me, Hope and Faith,
Faith, Hope, and Love, best boons to mortals given,
87. THE DEATH OF HAMILTON.
SHORT time since, and he, who is the occasion of our
was ornament of his country. He stood on
an eminence, and glory covered him. From that eminence he has fallen suddenly, forever fallen. His intercourse with the living world is now ended; and those who would hereafter find him, must seek him in the grave. There, cold and lifeless, is the heart which just now was the seat of friendship; there, dim and sightless, is the eye, whose radiant and enlivening orb beamed with intelligence; and there, closed forever, are those lips, on whose persuasive accents we have so often, and so lately hung with transport!
2. From the darkness which rests upon his tomb there proceeds, methinks, a light, in which it is clearly seen, that those gaudy objects which men pursue are only phantoms. In this light how dimly shines the splendor of victory-how humble appears the majesty of grandeur! The bubble, which seemed to have so much solidity, has burst; and we again see, that all below the sun is vanity.
3. True, the funeral eulogy has been pronounced, the sad and solemn procession has moved, the badge of mourning has already been decreed, and presently the sculptured marble will lift up its front, proud to perpetuate the name of Hamilton, and rehearse to the passing traveler his virtues (just tributes of respect, and to the living useful); but to him, mōldering in his nărrow and humble habitation, what are they? How vain! how unavailing!
4. Approach, and behold, while I lift from his sepulcher its covering! Ye admirers of his greatness! ye emulous of his talents and his fame! approach and behold him now. How pale! how silent! No martial bands admire the adroitness of his movements; no fascinating throng weep, and melt, and tremble at his eloquence! Amazing change! a shroud! a coffin! a narrow, subterraneous cabin!-this is all that now remains of Hamilton! And is this all that remains of Hamilton? During a life so transitory, what lasting monument, then, can our fondèst hopes erect!
5. My brethren, we stand on the borders of an awful gulf, which is swallowing up all things human. And is there, amidst this universal wreck, nothing stable, nothing abiding, nothing immortal, on which poor, frail, dying man can fasten? Ask the hero, ask the statesman, whose wisdom you have been accustomed to revere, and he will tell you. He will tell you, did I say? He has already told you, from his death-bed; and his illumined spirit still whispers from the heavens, with well-known eloquence, the solemn admonition: "Mortals hastening to the tomb, and once the companions of my pilgrimage, take warning and avoid my errors; cultivate the virtues I have recommended; choose the Saviour I have chosen live disinterestedly; : live for immortality; and would you rescue any thing from final dissolution, lay it up in God."
ELIPHALET NOTT, D.D., LL.D., was born in Ashford, Connecticut, in 1773, and passed his youth as a teacher, thereby acquiring the means of educating himself. He received the degree of Master of Arts from Brown University in 1795. He soon after established himself as clergyman and principal of an academy at Cherry Valley, in the State of New York. From 1798 to his clection as president of Union College, in 1803, he was pastor of the Presbyterian Church, at Albany, where he delivered a discourse "On the Death of Hamilton," from which the above extract is taken. In 1854, the fiftieth anniversary of Dr. Nott's presidency was celebrated at Union College, at the Commencement in July. Very many graduates assembled, and addresses were delivered by Dr. Wayland of Brown University, and Judge Campbell of New York. Dr. Nott also spoke with his old eloquence. His "Addresses to Young Men," "Temperance Addresses," and a collection of "Sermons," are his only published volumes. He died in 1866.
88. PASS ON, RELENTLESS WORLD..
WIFTER and swifter, day, by day,
Tumultuous and unstable world!
2. Thou passest on, and with thee go
The loves of youth, the cares of age;
There, every day, like yesterday,
Before the abyss of things to be?
Even as a shade, Oblivion treads,
His misty shroud forever spreads;
Upon that gloomy scroll to-day,
Like them shall live, like them decay.
Who sport upon thy flaunting blaze,
Who court thy love, and run thy ways:
Press onward to eternity;
Yet not together let us go
To that deep-voiced but shōrelèss sea.
5. Thou hast thy friends,-I would have mine;
I bow not at thy slavish throne :
They wake no swelling raptures now,
The triumphs of thy haughty brow.
No more for all that thou hast riven;
The things thou never yet hast given-
Affections fixed above thy sway,
And patience through life's little day.
LUNT. GEORGE LUNT, born at Newburyport, Massachusetts, was graduated at Harvard in 1824; admitted to the bar in 1831; practiced for a while at his native place, and since 1848 has pursued the profession in Boston. He published his
first volume of poems in 1839, followed in 1843 by "The Age of Gold and other Poems," and in 1854 by “Lyric Poems, Sonnets, and Miscellanies." His novel of New England life, entitled "Eastford, or Household Sketches, by Westley Brooke," was also published in 1854.
89. THE WORLD FOR SALE.
HE WORLD FOR SALE!-Hang out the sign;
Who'll buy this brave estate of mine,
And set me from carth's bondage free ?—
'Tis going!-yes, I mean to fling
The bauble from my soul away;
2. It is a glorious thing to see,—
Ah, it has cheated me so sōre!
For sale! It shall be mine no more.
I would not have you purchase dear :
Who bids ?-Who'll buy the splendid Tear?
Who'll buy the heavy heaps of care?
4. Here's Love, the dreamy potent spell
That beauty flings around the heart;
"Tis going,-Love and I must part!