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tained. And if in the councils of the Almighty it is decreed, that, we shall continue to advance in all that can render a people intelligent and virtuous, prosperous and happy, with what reverence will posterity regard the memory of those who have laid the foundation of such greatness and renown!

The state of New-York enjoys a temperate climate and a fruitful soil, and situated between the great lakes on the north nd west, and the ocean on the south and east, ought always to be the seat of plenty and salubrity. It requires nothing but the enlightened evolution of its faculties and resources to realize the beau-ideal of perfection: and the co-operation of man with the bounty of Providence, will render it a terrestial paradise: and this must be effected through the agency of intellectual, operating on physical exertion.

In this grand career of mind, in this potent effort of science, in this illustrious display of patriotism, contributions will flow in from all quarters. The humble mite will be acceptable as well as the golden talent. And the discriminating, perspica- . cious and comprehensive eye of intellect will find

Tongues in trees; books in the running brooks;
Sermons in stones; and good in every thing.

Indeed, the very ground on which we stand affords topics for important consideration and useful application. This city was among the earliest seats of European settlement. It was at the head of a great portage, reaching from the termination of the navigable waters of the west to the head waters of the Hudson. The alluvial lands of the river, rich as the soil formed by the overflowings of the Nile, were the principal residence of that ferocious and martial race, the true old heads of the Iroquois-a confederacy which carried terror, havoc and desolation from the gulf of St. Lawrence to the gulf of Mexico; and which as pired to universal empire over the savage nations. How as tonished would that people be, if they could be summoned to life, to witness the flowing of the waters of the west through this place, `seeking in a navigable shape, a new route to the Atlantic Ocean -carrying on their bosom the congregated products of nature and art, and spreading as they proceed, wealth and prosperity. Finally, whatever may be our thoughts, our words, our writ ings or our actions, let them all be subservient to the promotion of science and the prosperity of our country. Pleasure is a shadow; wealth is vanity, and power a pageant-but knowledge is extatic in enjoyment, perennial in fame, unlimited in space, and infinite in duration. In the performance of its sacred offices, it fears no danger, spares no expense, omits no exertion. It scales

the mountain, looks into the volcano, dives into the ocean, perforates the earth, wings its flight into the skies, encircles the globe, explores sea and land, contemplates the distant, examines the minute, comprehends the great, and ascends to the sublime. No place too remote for its grasp—no heavens too exalted for its reach. "Its seat is the bosom of God-its voice the harmony of the world."


On the exploit of Arnold Winkelried, at the battle of Sempach, in which the Swiss, fighting for their independence, totally defeated the Austrians, in the fourteenth century.

"Make way for Liberty !"-he cried;
Made way for Liberty, and died!

In arms the Austrian phalanx stood,
A living wall, a human wood!
A wall, where every conscious stone
Seemed to its kindred-thousands grown ;
A rampart all assaults to bear,

Till time to dust their frames should wear;
A wood, like that enchanted grove,
In which with fiends Rinaldo strove,
Where every silent tree possessed
A spirit prisoned in his breast,
With the first stroke of coming strife
Would startle into hideous life:
So dense, so still, the Austrians stood,
A living wall, a human wood!
Impregnable, their front appears
All horrent with projected spears,
Whose polished points before them shine,
From flank to flank, one brilliant line,
Bright as the breakers' splendours run
Along the billows, to the sun.

Opposed to these, a hovering band
Contending for their native land:

Peasants, whose new-found strength had broke
From manly necks the ignoble yoke,
And forged their fetters into swords,
On equal terms to fight their lords
And what insurgent rage had gained,
In many a mortal fray maintained :


Marshalled once more at Freedom's call,
They came to conquer or to fall,
Where he who conquered, he who fell,
Was deemed a dead, or living Tell!
Such virtue had that patriot breathed,
So to the soil his soul bequeathed,
That wheresoe'er his arrows flew,
Heroes in his own likeness grew,
And warriors sprang from every sod
Which his awakening footsteps trod.

And now the work of life and death
Hung on the passing of a breath;
The fire of conflict burned within,
The battle trembled to begin :
Yet while the Austrians held their ground,
Point for attack was no where found;
Where'er the impatient Switzers gazed,
The unbroken line of lances blazed;
That line 'twere suicide to meet,
And perish at their tyrants' feet ;-
How could they rest within their graves,
And leave their homes, the homes of slaves?
Would they not feel their children tread
With clanking chains above their head?
It must not be: this day, this hour,
Annihilates the oppressor's power;
All Switzerland is in the field,
She will not fly, she cannot yield-
She must not fall; her better fate
Here gives her an immortal date.
Few were the numbers she could boast ;
But every freeman was a host,
And felt as though himself were he,
On whose sole arm hung victory.

It did depend on one indeed;
Behold him,-Arnold Winkelried!
There sounds not to the trump of fame
The echo of a nobler name.
Unmarked he stood amid the throng,
In rumination deep and long,
Till you might see with sudden grace,
The very thought come o'er his face;
And by the motion of his form,
Anticipate the bursting storm;
And by the uplifting of his brow,

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Tell where the bolt would strike, and how.
But, 'twas no sooner thought than done;
The field was in a moment won :-
"Make way for Liberty!" he cried,
Then ran, with arms extended wide,
As if his dearest friend to clasp ;
Ten spears he swept within his grasp :
"Make way for Liberty!" he cried,
Their keen points met from side to side;
He bowed amongst them like a tree,
And thus made way for Liberty,

Swift to the breach his comrades fly ;
"Make way for Liberty !" they cry,
And though the Austrian phalanx dart,
As rushed the spears through Arnold's heart;
While instantaneous as his fall,
Rout, ruin, panic, scattered all :
An earthquake could not overthrow
A city with a surer blow.

Thus Switzerland again was free;
Thus Death made way for Liberty!


Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note, As his corse to the rampart we hurried;

Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot O'er the grave where our hero we buried.

We buried him darkly at dead of night, The sods with our bayonets turning;

By the struggling moonbeam's misty light, And the lantern dimly burning.

No useless coffin enclosed his breast, Not in sheet or in shroud we wound him,

But he lay like a warrior taking his rest, With his martial cloak around him.

Few and short were the prayers we said, And we spoke not a word of sorrow;

But we steadfastly gaz'd on the face that was dead, And we bitterly thought of the morrow.

We thought, as we hollow'd his narrow bed, And smooth'd down his lonely pillow,

That the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his head, And we far away on the billow!

Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone, And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him;

But little he'll reek, if they let him sleep on, In the grave where a Briton has laid him.

But half of our heavy task was done, When the clock struck the hour for retiring; And we heard the distant and random gun, That the foe was suddenly firing.

Slowly and sadly we laid him down, From the field of his fame fresh and gory;

We carv'd not a line, and we raised not a stoneBut we left him alone with his glory.

Extract from CAMPBELL's Pleasures of Hope.

O weep not thus, (he cried) young Ellenore,
My bosom bleeds, but soon shall bleed no more!
Short shall this half-extinguish'd spirit burn,
And soon these limbs to kindred dust return!
But not, my child, with life's precarious fire,
The immortal ties of Nature shall expire;
These shall resist the triumph of decay,
When time is o'er, and worlds have passed away!
Cold in the dust this perish'd heart may lie,
But that which warm'd it once shall never die!
That spark unburied in its mortal frame,
With living light, eternal, and the same,
Shall beam on Joy's interminable years,
Unveil'd by darkness-unassuag'd by tears!

Yet, on the barren shore and stormy deep,
One tedious watch is Conrad doom'd to weep;
But when I gain the home without a friend,
And press th' uneasy couch where none attend,
This last embrace, still cherish'd in my heart,
Shall calm the struggling spirit ere it part!

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