Puslapio vaizdai
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Hard by the murmurs of the chrystal stream, A sudden voice I hear; amazed I stand,

Catch every sound, and still the voice returns!

Behold a sage advancing through the groves,
The moonbeam trembling on his silver locks.
Again I listen, but his voice has ceased!

Time's ruthless hand with wrinkles knit his brow;
A long white beard descended from his chin;
A sudden awe thrills through my every limb;
He stops, abrupt, beside a purling stream,
Where chaste Diana kissed the silver wave.
Fair in the azure chambers of the east,
His raptured eyes beheld the radiant maid;
The spangled constellations of the heavens,
Lost in surprise, astonishment, he viewed;
"These are thy works, eternal Father; thine
"Nature's great altar of unceasing praise,
"Raised in the temple of unbounded space!
"Blest be that God who smiled upon my birth,
"Who sent a guardian angel from the sky

"To snatch me from the wreck, which threats the world,
"Amid these lone retreats, to range the stars,
"Those gems, that with unsullied lustre shine,
"To grace the crown of high Omnipotence."
He ceas'd; his lips in faltering silence hung;
But silence spoke, devotion was not dumb.
The tear of gratitude gush'd from his eye,
And the pure transport melted all his soul.

Hail, bright Philosophy, thy pages ne'er Could boast a fairer dignity to man!

Of morals pure, and of a heart sincere,

In him the virtues, all resplendent, shone.

"Yon river," spoke the sage," which foams along, "Its waves perplexed, by craggy rocks enraged, "Points to my eye the picture of the world, "Where care corrodes all happiness below. "From the tumultuous scenes of worldly strife, "Where pride's gay, tinsel train, in fashion's sun, "Bask like the butterfly, a day to charm,

"To these green bowers, and rural groves I came, "And sought retirement in her native shade. "The heaven which mortals vainly seek below, "In earthly gew-gaws, and in princely state, "May here be found, if earth a heaven produce. "By contemplation led, we walk on high; "And here by fond anticipation taste

"That bliss, which virtue shall hereafter crown.
"While Nature's laws direct the starry world,
"And mortals think they're wise if skill'd in these,
"Let sages, more contemplative, unite,

"To adorn mankind, the virtues to display,
"Those stars, which glitter in the moral sky.
"The voice of Nature is the voice of praise;
"Yon orbs but shine, our gratitude to raise."

He ceas'd; for admiration then began, And honoured with a tear the pride of man.

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PALE is the mournful eye of setting day;
The gloomy fields in weeds of woe appear;
O'er the dim lawn dread horror bends his way,
And solemn silence bids the mind revere.

Beneath thick glooms the distant landscape fades ;'
The sad moon weeps o'er yon funereal ground;
Hark! the dull rippling stream the ear invades ;
The soul, wild staring, startles at each sound!

What ghastly phantoms round me seem to rise! With this just lecture on their tongues they come;

In yonder spot Fame's great colossus lies;

A BOWDOIN moulders in the humble tomb!*

How short the fleeting hour assigned to man!
To Virtue's nobler charge the task is given,
Beyond the grave to extend the narrow span,
And gain a blest eternity in heaven.

Yes, 'tis a glorious truth, that man, refined
From all the impurities of sordid clay,
No more an exile on vile earth confined,

Shall shine amid the stars of endless day.

Hark! the sad voice of death, with solemn sound,
Calls from their distant caves the sleeping gales!
The gales with sighs the awful voice resound,3
And tears of grief bedew the echoing vales.

Across the fields see heavenly Virtue stray;
Philosophy, dejected at her side,

And Love celestial bend their pensive way,
And give free vent to grief's impetuous tide!

Mid the dark melancholy walks of death,

Towards a stately monument they rove;
And hang on the tomb their votive wreath,
A wreath with mingled honours fondly wove.

From realms of purest happiness they flow,

To adorn the grave where their dear votary slept; The world they found suffused in tears of woe, And feeling for its loss in pity wept.

Around the tomb the heavenly spirits stand, In all the plaintive eloquence of grief; "Here rest in peace, thou patriot of thy land, "Sage of the world, and Virtue's darling chief!"

"Let spring immortal o'er thy ashes bloom;

"To thee let earth the laurelled wreath resign; "The ivy and the olive deck the tomb;

"For valour, eloquence, and peace were thine!"

"Well may thy friends bedew thy hallowed urn,
"Ambition weep, despairing of thy fame;
"Well may thy country o'er thy relicks mourn,
“And wondering earth immortalize thy name."

Weep o'er the grave, which BowDOIN's dust entombs ;
In him such splendid traits their charms unite,
Like the bright lamp, which heaven and earth illumes,
He shone the sun of philosophick light!

In him the patriot virtues all combined;"
In him was Freedom's voice divinely heard;
Soft grace and energy adorned his mind,
And constellated excellence appeared.

How oft have senates on his accents hung,
And viewed the blended powers of genius meet,
In flowing musick, melting from his tongue,

Strong, without rage, and without flattery, sweet."

When Massachusetts' patriot sages met,

To snatch from fate their country's falling name, His arm, like Jove's, upreared the sinking state, And raised a pillar in the dome of fame.

His noble soul no selfish motive fired;
His country's glory was his godlike aim;

In danger prudent, resolute, admired;
And every action but enhanced his fame.

Beneath his friendly wing the muses found
A father, smiling on their infant lyre;

There Art and Science were with bounty crowned,
And Learning owned a BowDOIN for her sire.

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