yond the sea; was it some, or all of these united, that hurried this forsaken company to their melancholy fate? -And is it possible that neither of these causes, that not all combined, were able to blast this bud of hope?90 Is it possible, that from a beginning so feeble, so frail, so worthy, not so much of admiration as of pity, there has gone forth a progress so steady, a growth so wonderful, an expansion so ample, a reality so important, a promise, yet to be fulfilled, so glorious? Everett. 56. The Progress of Poesy. Woods, that wave o'er Delphi's steep; Or where Mæander's amber waves Till the sad Nine, in Greece's evil hour, They sought, O Albion! next thy sea-encircled coast. In thy green lap was nature's darling laid, This pencil take, (she said,) whose colours clear 25 Richly paint the vernal year; Thine too these golden keys, immortal boy! Of horror, that, and thrilling fears, Or ope the sacred source of sympathetic tears. 30 Nor second he, that rose sublime 1 He pass'd the flaming bounds of space and time, 35 Where angels tremble while they gaze, He saw; but, blasted with excess of light, Behold, where Dryden's less presumptuous car 40 Two coursers of ethereal race, With necks in thunder cloth'd, and long resounding pace. Scatters from her pictur'd urn 45 Thoughts that breathe, and words that burn. O lyre divine! what daring spirit 55 With orient hues, unborrow'd of the sun; Beneath the good how far-but far above the great. Gray. I HAD a dream, which was not all a dream. Rayless, and pathless, and the icy earth 5 Swung blind and blackening in the moonless air; Morn came, and went-and came, and brought no day, And men forgot their passions in the dread Of this their desolation; and all hearts Were chill'd into a selfish prayer for light : 10 And they did live by watchfires-and the thrones, The palaces of crowned kings-the huts, The habitations of all things which dwell, Were burnt for beacons ; cities were consumed, And men were gather'd round their blazing homes 15 To look once more into each other's face; Happy were those who dwelt within the eye Of the volcanos, and their mountain-torch: A fearful hope was all the world contain'd; Forests were set on fire-but hour by hour 20 They fell and faded-and the crackling trunks Extinguish'd with a crash-and all was black. The brows of men by the despairing light Wore an unearthly aspect, as by fits The flashes fell upon them; some lay down Their funeral piles with fuel, and look'd up 30 The pall of a past world; and then again shriek'd, And, terrified, did flutter on the ground, And flap their useless wings; the wildest brutes Gorging himself in gloom: no love was left; 45 Died, and their bones were tombless as their flesh ; The birds and beasts and famish'd men at bay, And a quick desolate cry, licking the hand And they were enemies; they met beside Where had been heap'd a mass of holy things 60 For an unholy usage; they raked up, And shivering scraped with their cold skeleton hands Blew for a little life, and made a flame Which was a mockery; then they lifted up 65 Their eyes as it grew lighter, and beheld Each other's aspects-saw, and shriek'd, and died— Even of their mutual hideousness they died, Unknowing who he was upon whose brow Famine had written Fiend. The world was void, 70 The populous and the powerful was a lump, Seasonless, herbless, treeless, manless, lifelessA lump of death—a chaos of hard clay. The rivers, lakes, and ocean all stood still, And nothing stirred within their silent depths; 75 Ships sailorless lay rotting on the sea, And their masts fell down piecemeal; as they dropp'd The waves were dead; the tides were in their grave, 80 The winds were wither'd in the stagnant air, Byron. The land is not wholly free from the contamination of a traffic, at which every feeling of humanity must forever revolt-I mean the African slave trade. Neither public sentiment, nor the law, has hitherto been able entirely 5 to put an end to this odious and abominable trade. At the moment when God, in his mercy, has blessed the Christian world with an universal peace, there is reason to fear, that, to the disgrace of the christian name and character, new efforts are making for the extension of 10 this trade, by subjects and citizens of Christian states, in whose hearts no sentiment of humanity or justice inhabits, and over whom neither the fear of God nor the fear of man exercises a control. In the sight of our law, the African slave trader is a pirate and a felon ; 15 and in the sight of heaven, an offender far beyond the ordinary depth of human guilt. There is no brighter part of our history, than that which records the measures which have been adopted by the government, at an early day, and at different times since, for the sup20 pression of this traffic; and I would call on all the true sons of New-England, to co-operate with the laws of man, and the justice of heaven. If there be within the extent of our knowledge or influencé, any participation in this traffic, let us pledge ourselves here, to extirpate 25 and destroy it. It is not fit, that the land of the Pilgrims should bear the shame longer. I hear the sound of the hammer, I see the smoke of the furnaces where manacles and fetters are still forged for human limbs. I see the visages of those, who by stealth, and at mid30 night, labour in this work of hell, foul and dark, as may become the artificers of such instruments of misery and torture. Let that spot be purified, or let it cease to be of New-England. Let it be purified, or let it be set aside from the Christian world; let it be put 35 out of the circle of human sympathies and human regards, and let civilized man henceforth have no communion with it. I would invoke those who fill the seats of justice, and all who minister at her altar, that they execute the 40 wholesome and necessary severity of the law.` I invoke the ministers of our religion, that they proclaim its denunciation of these crimes, and add its solemn sanctions to the authority of human laws. If the pulpit be silent, whenever, or wherever, there may be a sinner bloody 45 with this guilt, within the hearing of its voice, the pul |