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Unconscious builder! of what must withstand The ceaseless stroke of time's oblivious hand, glorious still to shine, name may be allied to
Great Glory's self, more
What thou commandest, ALL become, who scan that full epitome of man;
From fictions high, and stores of antient lore, i
Here first my boyhood roved, through fragrant
To weave an artless wreath in Shakspeare's bowers; And here, O let me, youth and manhood past, Where sprung my first enjoyments-seek my last.
When freedom's foes, and faction's fouler band Shall hurl destruction o'er thy native land, When toads and snakes shall unmolested creep, Where millions met, at Garrick's voice to weep!
* Perhaps this is no hyperbole; for as Glory herself is disgraced, when coupled with a Mahomet, a Jenghis Khan, or a Napoleon; so is she in some degree retrieved,by being associated with a Trajan, an Antoninus, or an Alfred.
When hooting owls shall fill, and bats deface
Her vast Savannahs, and her forests drear..
More far and wide than from his mountain throne Proud Chimborazzo * sees, shalt thou be known; Though torrid suns their cloudless lustre shed, And gild, with rays unfelt, his icy head; Though storms, nor thunders shake his awful seat, And harmless lightnings flash around his feet; While he surveys, above the tempest's roar, Two mighty oceans break on either shore.
Erected instant, at their Bard's command, Theatric piles shall press the Western strand;
*The highest point of the Andes, whose chain extends four thousand three hundred miles, forming the barrier of the vast pacific ocean. Whether the atlantic is discernible from the top of Chimborazzo can never be known, for the impassable line of perpetual congelation commences, many thousand feet below his apex, which is one third higher than the highest mountain in the old world.
Roused by thine Orphic spell, the stones shall rise,
In vain, 'twixt fame and talent, interpose
While heaving sighs, from sable bosoms, prove
Then still on deathless pinion soar sublime, And charm a future age, a distant clime; Prepared the fierce extremes of melting love, Or chilling fear, of height, or depth to prove;
* As Shakspeare is not only read, but acted in many parts of North America, we may venture to give him,at the hands of Columbus, that other world, for which Alexander sighed in vain.
Now stooping low to hear the shepherd's tale,
Thus, high o'er Cotopaxa's† summit hoar, In " pride of place," the Condor dares to soar,
"Ou her left breast
A mole cinque-spotted, like the crimson drops
†This is another peak of the Andes. Exposed to the vertical rays of the sun, above the clouds, and situated nearly in the centre of the torrid zone, yet are these frozen regions covered with everlasting snows. These bleak, and dreary heights, whose silent solitude must be for ever undisturbed by the footstep, or the voice of man, are rendered vocal, only by the piercing scream of the Condor, by far the largest, and most powerful of the Eagle race. The lonely tenant of these icy craggs, he is endowed with a vigour of circulation to endure their cold, and a strength of pinion, to soar far above their summits; yet can he dart like a thunder-bolt upon the prey, plunging from the zenith of his flight, at once in the deep and sultry valleys of Lima. To him, the instantaneous and violent changes of height and depth, of heat and cold, are alike indifferent; and he can precipitate himself, as it were, in a moment, from the temperature of the Poles, to that of the Line. In those vast and luxuriant Savannahs, which have been compared to seas of grass,
He reigns, where flagging Eagles may not fly,
and under the cloudless canopy of a Peruvian sky, no living object shall be discernible throughout the whole horizon. Yet, the Buccaneer shall have scarcely stripped the ham-stringed Buffalo of his hide, before the Condor shall be seen hovering over him, and covering him with his wings; allured to the prey, from heights beyond the ken of human vision. The anatomy of this wonderful bird must be for many reasons extremely curious. It would open to us another page in the book of Nature; that comprehensive and exhaustless volume, every line and letter of which addresses itself to all our senses, and consoles us with one interesting, joyful, and all pervading truth. A truth, the full and adequate expression of which, can only be found in the volume of Revelation, that other monument of God's wisdom and benevolence. That sacred page re-echoes back the voice of nature, when it declares that “Great and Glorious are Thy Works, and in Wisdom hast Thou made them all!
END OF THE FIRST BOOK.