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Regiment: 2nd Michigan Infantry
Battles Mentioned:
Historical Figures:
Caroden S. Burge.
Kalamazoo Oct 13th
1860.
Composition No. 11.
Poem No. 4.
For Philolexian Soc. Paper.
The Devil’s Defeat.
Honor and shame from no condition rise;
Act well your part; there all the honor his.
By the terms honor and shame we mean
not the mere name which we often hear
given to those around us, but the just
deserts of men for the past I which they
bear in life: for in looking upon those
around us we are too apt to be influenced
by the position in which the person is
placed. There is no person around us whom
we do not regard as possessing,
in a greater
or less degree, one or the other of these qualities.
But we do not regard them with the same
degree of respect or disrespect, nor is it right
that we should; for no one will pretend that
the person who has never done more than
one honorable act is worthy of as much hon-
or as the one who has spent his life in
the performance of such deeds. It is also
the same with the other class. Now we see that
honor and shame can arise from no condition,
for who is worthy of honor or deserving of shame
on acount of the position in which chance has
placed him. No true honor can belong
to a person, except that which he has earned
by his own exertions. O, how foolish are we
to have so much of the pride of birth?
There are many who seem to think that,
because they were born wealthy or from hon-
orable parents, they have nothing to
do in life, but that their position will
procure them ample honor. Although
there are always some who pretend to regard such,
who realy has any respect for them?
When, perchance, their fortunes are gone or
their parents dead, even those very ones who
before were so ready to praise, will forsake
them. Such an one might better be
dead than living; for what is he but a
cumbrance to society? We are placed here
not to gratify our desires and passions, but
to use the powers which God has given
us for our own improvement, and the
benefit of those around us. O then how
should we strive to act well our part how-
ever humble it may be! How should
we watch our every act? for it is certain that
each act of our life tends toward honor or
or disgrace. No person can take a neutral
position, however hard he may strive;
and if he is thus striving he is pretty
sure to be inclining to the latter. If we
could leave ourselves, and, from the position
which others occupy, look back upon our
own conduct, how many false steps and acts
which tend to lead us from honor should we
see! We are apt to think that, because we are not
performing such great deeds as some who have gone
before us. it is not very essential that
we should guard our steps very closely. But it
is not great acts which make us great, but
the manner in which we perform every duty
which presents itself, whether great or small.
Moreover, the way in which to find great
work is to perform faithfully the little
duties which rise up in our path. The man
who waits for an opportunity to become
great by a single act is in a fair way
never to become very eminent. If it was a
man’s occupation that made him honored
we should find all those who have attained
this, confined to certain classes. But it is not
so. Yet although a man’s becomcoming hon-
ored depends not upon his occupation, still we
are not all intended for the same thing,
and in order to secure the highest end for
for which we are designed, it is necessary
for us to find that for which we are best
calculated. Many, who might have
been useful in society, have been nearly lost
to the world by having wrongly chosen.
One may have chosen that which
[ ? ]
greater abilities than he possessed, another that which
was too small for him to use his tallents.
In this case neither would acquire the honor
for which he was intended. A man, though in the most
humble position on earth, would obtain
the highest honor to which he could
possibly attain, if it was that for which
he was designed. But whatever be the object
for which we are striving, nothing will take
the place of acting well our part; and he
who does this is sure to gain honor whether
his business be humble or exalted. Benj.
Franklin was a printer; yet his name is well
known to every child in our land. Daniel
Webster though a poor farmer boy became
one of our noblest statesman.
Washington & Jackson arose to their
greatness in the position of generals.
Thus we see that those who have
acted well their part, what-
ever their position, have become
truly honored.
What an effect do such men have upon
society and the world! All around them
are led to strive more eagerly to become use-
ful! all who become acquainted with their
lives are stimulated and encouraged to press on-
ward and act well their own part. If then
those who do act well their part have
such an influence upon the world, should it
not be our constant aim so to live that
those around us may be induced by our
example to seek more ardently to use their
tallents in the best manner?
Caroden S. Burge
Kalamazoo Oct. 15.
1859.
Composition No 5.
The Advantages of Adversity
We shall consider adversity as that which
opposes us in every walk of life. We are
apt to regard adversity as an ill fortune which
we are compelled to bear. We sum to think
that it is ever to be dreaded. This arises
from considering present happiness as the
most desirable of all things, and from
a misconception of what adversity brings
to us. Adversity is an advantage because it
stimulates us to action. In prosperity we are
apt to settle down in quiet forgetfulness
of our duty to our fellow men and the
world; but when adversity comes that which
we could not do before, because we felt
not the need of action, we are now led
to do with earnestness. There is an animal
called the sloth which so soon as it has
[ ? ] its wants for the present moment
stripped one tree of its verdure and all that
is able to five it nourishment, drops to
the ground and lies in a state of torpor un-
til compelled by dire necessity to seek more
food or die. There is something of this nature
in man; so long as there is nothing to urge
him to act he is apt to forget that he has any-
thing to do, and is only bought to feel the
importance of acting by some adversity.
Our Creator designed all things for our good;
and in His wisdom He saw that man would
need something, at times, to urge him to act.
But He has made each adversity benefit us,
in that each time that we act it tends
to develop the powers that He has given
us, and thereby accomplish an object which
He designed that we should. The mind
which battles with adversity if it gains the victory may be com-
pared to the man who daily bears heavy
burdens, which, instead of weakening, only
tend to strengthen him, and make him
more able to
[ ? ] the next. Thus the
mind which battles sucessfully with one adversity
is strengthened and better filled to cope with
whatever next, may oppose it The mind which ripens without
adversity is like the tree which grows up with
out a storm, which, so long as all is calm and
serene, seems as fair and strong as any; but so soon
as the tempest assails it it cannot resist.
But the mind which ripens amid adversities
is like the tree upon the mountain side,
upon which the tempests have ever beaten,
whose roots are deeply driven in the rocky
soil and nothing seems able to move.
Almost every vocation of life is begun from
adversity. Many have been useless in the
world because they have had nothing to urge
them to act, and thereby have been so deceived
as to think that true happiness consisted
in a kind of non-existence. Still though
a person may act without the force of adversi-
ty, yet there is moreover discipline to be acquired by ad-
versity which can be gained in no other way.
If then adversity is the cause of so much good
to us how do we misjudge it when we regard it
as a thing to be dreaded! We should look upon
it as a grat blessing; and since it is our object
to teach our minds to act, if that which opposes us
tends to promote this most, we should regard
it as one of the greatest blessings, however un-
pleasant it may seem.
Adversity, a thing sever,
May lead us, for the while, to mourn,
But when, from higher summits gained,
We look upon the way we’ve come,
We see that that for which we grieved
Is that that’s been our guide along.
Composition No 6
Kalamazoo Nov. 19.
Composition
C. S. Burge.
Just back before the misty birth of time
We’re told that Satan boldly thought to climb
The throne of Heaven, and with imperial sway
To wield the scepter in eternal day.
With countless others in the league combined,
As some proud champion of his partie’s mind
Leads on the contest with so dire array,
That one would think ere yet another day
The reigning president must lose his power,
Down cast and humbled in a single hour;
So he leads on, by mad ambition driven,
Intent on ruling Tartarus or Heaven.
Foiled in attempt, as mortals sometimes are,
He
[ ? ] left the horrid front of war,
[ ? ] with pain from deeply smitten wound
Which first, recoiling, curled him to the ground,
His kingly notions for the moment lower’d
The dust is sprinkled on his haughty gourd
His dignity regained, and too his power,
His wound is healed, and at the midnight hour
His potentates he called and this addressed,
While sense of royal worth his soul possessed;
O worthy compeers, and ye noble braves
Now known in arms, two mighty to be slaves,
Ye have now borne one day in doubtful fight,
And if one day why not eternal might?
But we have suffered some infight this day
From arms unequal to our foes’ in fray,
And now if equal arms we may provide
We soon shall take the throne in all our pride
Nor is material distant whence to make
Some warlike engines which all Heaven would shake
Down deep beneath is metal in crud state
With which, when formed, to send them terms of weight,
And make our fierce combattents in their fright
Think we have robbed the of thund’rer of His might.
Let this ere morrow’s dawn but find perfection
Ere morrow’s eve our foes are in subjection.
He spak and they with pickaxe,
[ ? ], spade,
As bands of paddies on the rail road grade
Pour forth their dozens, at their leader’s cry,
And pitching in they make the gavel fly,
These lusty imps so dig with all their might
With purpose fixed to bring the on in sight.
The trade is somewhat new for royal princes,
And never well such dignity evinces,
But in their hurry they did all so take on
That all they though of was to save their bacon.
As morning dawns the dreadful engines made
They’re marching forward with a grand parrade
Their valient leader with his plumes on high
Their banners waving in the clear blue sky,-
With shield, with helmet, and sword bright and cold
And dazzling spear points fearful to behold.
They onward press in phalanx broad and deep,
Their darkening masses well the secret keep
Of that invention for the aid of war
Which they had made while night without a star
Hid them thus plotting for His overthrow
Who ruled over Heaven and o’er. Chaos too
Still on and on in silent march they press,
Till leader might his leader for address,
When Satan’s legions op’ning at his sign
Disclose the monsters taken from the mine.
The chief of horrors stares them in the face,
And in dismay they all start back a pace,
As when two school boys get their
[ ? ]
And thinking they’ve their honor’s cause espoused
Whithout out delay to angry blows they fly,
And each is bound to black the other’s eye.
When conquered soon by the superior might
One is compelled to back out of the fight,
But soon returns to meet the victor lad,
Who, as he sees the coward, is right glad,
Who breathes must suffer, and who thinks must mourns
And he alone is brested who ne’er was borne.
A Debate by composition with
my classmate N. P. Barlow.
Kal. Nov. 30th 1860
Copied at 2 o’clock in the morning.
C. S. Burge.
Composition No 12.
who thinks must mourn,
Who breathes must suffer, and
And he alone is blest who ne’cr
[ ? ]
I have been trying to conceive
in my imagination what sort of
a person that was, which the
gentleman has just mentioned
as one who never was born; whether
he would say that the person
was like Mrs. Stowe’s Topsy,
who according to her own word was
never born but “growed,” and
therfore that such an one as this
was the only happy person in
the world; or, whether he realy
meant that the person who
never had existence was the only
happy person. In the first
case, I suppose that he would advise
us all to emigrate south at once
and place ourselves as nearly as
possible in the condition which
Topsy occupied, and then as
quickly as might be work ourselves
with the idea that we had never
been born; that we might come into
the possession of those pure and
lasting joys which only such per
sons can enjoy. In the other case
my pity has been deeply awakened
for the persons who never had exis-
tence, think that he should never
know anything about it when he
was receiving blessings so great and
untarnished. Indeed, they must be
so untarnished as to be perfestly
transparent, and so weighty, that,
if one should attempt to break a
camel’s back by piling them
one by one upon it, he would never
be able, as he might with feathers,
to come to the one which would
snap its back.
But to leave this sort of
talk, We will
[ ? ] the gentleman has just
said that “He who thinks must
mourn”. Now to say to say that
everyone who thinks must mourn,
is like saying that everybody
who runs must fall. If there
happens to be anything in the
path of a person who is running,
which trips his feet from under
him, he will be very likely
to come in contact with the ground.
and so with a person who is think-
ing; if he dwell upon misery
and woe, he will
[ ? ]
be unhappy, but if he meditate
upon the glorious objects which
meet him everywhere in the uni-
verse of God, he can not but be
happy.
Now had he simply meant that
there must be some sorrow mixed
with all our joy, we could not
deny it. But he does not mean
this. He even makes the misery
to predominte. For should he admit
that there was less sorrow then
joy, then he must admit that
life is a blessing in proportion
as the joy excedes the sorrow, and
that we are all blessed in being
born. But since he says that
no one is blessed who is born
he must mean that sorrow
holds its sway oe’r all our earth;
that misery is the rule, and
only now and then the exception
of happiness.
Now we say that it is false.
Because he has been looking on the
dark side of the picture, he has
thought that everybody else done so
and has even tried to bring
scripture to prove that man
should be sad and not joyful.
The analogy must be very close,
indeed, to thus prove that, while
God has clothed all around us in beauty
and gladness, we ourselves should
dress in mourning; that, while He
He has made everything in heaven
above, and in earth beneath to re-
joice, we ourselves should sit in
sackcloth and ashes.
The whole spirit of the Bible
contradicts this. Almost every-
where it is filled with praise and
rejoicing; and though there is now
and then a page of lamentation
it only makes the rejoicing stand
forth in brighter colors.
If God had meant that
we should think only or principally
of misery would be have placed
all these glories around us, which
will make us rejoice whether we
would or not?
So it must be both the will
of God and the consent of the
heart that there should be
more rejoicing then sorrowing.
Now in saying that “He who
breathes must suffer”, had he meant
that everybody must receive more
or less of pain, we could not deny
it. But he does not mean this,
Since the last line of the
[ ? ]
implies that the pain is
so much greater than the joy that it
were better not to be born at all.
Now if he means that suffering
follows as a consequence of breathing, we
may say, As every person breathes
he suffers. Everybody breathes continually;
Therefore everybody suffers continually.
If this be true, I am sure that
the majority of mankind don’t
feel it; and that pain which we
can not perceive in himself, can not
be very excruciating.
Now to say without restriction
that he who breathes must suffer,
is like saying that he who drinks
must be
[ ? ] intoxicated, without saying
whether he drinks out of the
Rum flask or the cold water jug;
for as drinking may be one of the
greatest sources of health and hap-
piness, provided that one drink
pure Adam’s ale; so may breathing
if we breathe the pure air of heaven.
But if he means to say that
the majority of mankind are suf-
fering more pain than they are re-
ceiving of pleasure, we think that
he is mistaken. Where is it the
case, if true? No one will pretend
that it is among us. We take up
the newspaper and read of the
hundreds who are sick, that here
and there some plague is raging,
that this man has committed a
robbery, and that one has broken
jail, and perhaps a collumn or
two is filled with accounts of this
sort. But what if we should
try to enumerate all the well
persons in our country? or to describe
all the different causes and emotions
of health and happiness?
For every house there must be
a different paper, and in every
house a scribe to note down the
cases, and our whole lend over there
would be neither room nor time for
anything else, but obtaining
and circulating these statistics.
So we must believe that our
the poet erred, as had here to day our friend,
that his poetic imagination
led him astray. We must be-
leive that, the world over, there
are more causes for rejoicing than
mourning, that there is more
breathing and enjoying, than
breathing and suffering, in short
that man has but to breathe
to enjoy, but to think to be
happy.
The Training to which
Demosthenes Subjected Himself,
and His Character as
An Orator.
Caroden S. Burge,
Kalamazoo Sept. 27.
1860.
Coppied between 12 & 3 ½ A.M.
Essay Nov. 1 for Greek
Class in Sophomore year.
Composition No 10.
We have all, from our
earliest rembrance, been acus-
tomed to hear of this ancient
orator with untold wonder and
delight, and often in our im-
agination have we seen the
masses of those eager, but short
sighted patriots swaying to
his eloquence, as the forest
bends to the opposing tempest.
We often ask, “Why is it
that he who had so many natu-
ral defects to battle with, he
who at first met the hisses in-
stead of the praises of his au-
ditory, whom fortune herself
seemed determined to discourage,
stands first on the
[ ? ] of the
ancient world’s eloquent, while
so many of the great and
gifted, whom nature seemed to
have designed for the highest place
of eloquence, on whom fortune
cast her blandest smile, have
never been ranked even as second
to him?”
When he first comes into
view we find him a feeble stam=
mering youth, wronged and uncared
for by his guardians,. nicknamed
by his associates on account of his
natural defects, and so deficient
in all those qualities which we
are accustomed to call promising
in youth, that he was the last
one whom we should have selected
as the future leader of his country-
men.
His desire for eloquence was
implanted in his breast at the
age of sixteen, on hearing a
speech of Callisthenes in the cause
of the city; and when he saw the
honors with which the orator
was conducted home, he made
the resolve to be himself el-
oquent, which was afterwards so
nobly carried out, through his
unconquerable will. He at once
gave up all other studies, and
applied himself with all his
powers to this new undertaking,
in the hopes of being, at some
day, ranked among the eloquent.
He places himself under the
instruction of Isarus, and becomes
the docile student of all the
greatest orators and rhetoricians,
who have preceded him. “But his
studies are not confined to the academy
or the public grove. We see him
daily ascending the acropolis and
panting for breath as he gains
its summit. Again he is seen la-
boriously climbing Olympus, the
Hymettus, and every eminence
where
[ ? ] or the muses have
breathed their inspiration.
We see him again as the tem-
pest comes on hurrying to the least
frequented parts of the Piraeus or
Phaleous, and while the deafening
thunders roar arround him, and
the deep and stirring eloquence of
many waters expands and fills
his soul, lifting his feeble and
stammering voice, and essaying
to give it compass and flexibility
and power, while he talks with
the thunder as friend to friend,
and weaves his garland of the
lightning’s wing’”
“At the age of seventeen he ap-
peared before the public and
pronounced five orations against his
guardians which were crowned with
complete success. An opening so
brilliant and successful, imboldened
the young orator, as may well be sup-
posed, to speak before the people;
but, when he made the attempt,
his feeble and stammering voice, his
interrupted respiration, his ungraceful
gestures, and ill arranged periods,
brought upon him general ridicule.
He was going home in great distress
with his head covered, when Sat-
yrus, an acquaintance, followed him
to his room and went in with
him: “Demostenes lamented to him
That though though he was the
most laborious of all orators
and had almost scrifised his
health to that application, yet
he could gain no favor with
the people; but drunken seamen
and other unletered persons kept the
rostrum.’ True ‘answered Satyrus’
but I will provide as remedy
if you will pronounce to me some
speech in Euripides or Sophocles.
when Demosthenes had done, Satyr-
rus pronounced the same speech,
and he did it with such pro-
priety of action, and so much
in character, that it appeared to
to the orator quite a different
passage. He now understood so
well how much grace and dig-
nity action adds to the best
oratin, that he thought it a
small matter to premeditate and
compose, though with the utmost
care, if pronunciation and propri-
ety of gesture were not attended to.
He then built himself a subterra-
neous study. Thither he repaired
every day to from his action,
and exercise his voice.” Here
he would often remain two or three
months together, shaving half his
so that if tempted to appear in
society shame might keep him
from it. He also with his pen
eight times transcribed Thucidides,
that he might make his own
some portion of the terseness
energy and five of that historian.
He thought so much depended
on the look, the one of voice, and
the action, that at one time, when
a man came and desired to have
him be his advocate against
at person from whom he had
suffered by assault, “Not you indded
‘said Demosthenes’ you have suf-
fered no such thing.” “What ‘said
the man raising his voice’ have I
not received those blow?” “Ay now
‘replied Demosthenes’ you do speak
like a person that has been injured.
It is universaly admitted to no
other spea
When he spoke the people were
persauded that what he was tell-
ing them was true, and not only
that it was true, but if action
were required, they went away
thinking not of the speaker’s har-
monious cadences or beautiful
gestures, but thinking that it was
necessary for them to act, and
that at once; and here is said
to have been the difference between
Cicero & Demosthenes; from the
former the people are said to have
gone away saying, what a beau-
tiful speaker! what a splended
speech! but from the latter
saying “Lets fight Philip”!
The secret seems to be, that
when he came before the people
he came with no half hearted
appeal, but his whole soul was
in what he said, and he showed
it not only by his words, animat-
ing as they were, but by his every
look, expression of countenance, and
gesture.
We may therfore understand
what he meant when, to one who
asked him the first requisite of
the orator, he answered, “Delivery”.
The second, “Delivery”. The third,
“Delievery”. He did not mean
simply “Action,” but that every
manifestation of the speaker should
show that his words, glowing though
they were, were only faint symbols
of the burning thoughts which were
boiling up from the red hot furnance
At the age of his heart.
Why then should we wonder
that the people should be
unable to stand before such an one,
if his reasonings were so true and plain
that conviction was carried to
each heart at the same time that
it was thrilled by the
touching pathos or his appeals?
If his
[ ? ] are prejudiced
against him or his cause, their
prejudices are soon forgotten, and
they are carried on by his resist-
less eloquence, until they are soon ready
to show his praise, or join heart
and with him in the cause of which
he is the advocate.
To resist such eloquence, if one will
listen, would be like resisting the
torrent of burning lava as it looks
from Aetna’s mouth.
Such, it is universlly admitted,
was the power of Demosthenes
to a greater degree than has ever
been possessed by any other orator
in the world’s history. This too,
it is admitted, he obtained not
from natural tallent, but by the
untiring zeal with which from his youth
he pursued this one object.
Ought not this to teach us a lesson
of perseverance and the force of will
Can any one,
discouraged by obstacles however
great yield to despair?
Have you
natural defects? Here is your example.
Are you wronged and neglected by
those, who ought to care for and protect
you? Here too you are not alone.
Are you ridiculed by companions,
and hissed down in your noblest
efforts? Who more than he?
Who then will not fix his mind
upon some noble object for which he
would spend his life, and more
nobly carry it out by making all
things conduce to his advancement in
the work worthy of his life?
The Student’s Reverie
Caroden S. Burge
The Student’s Reverie.
O fall the deeds of other men
How loudly speaks the poets pen,
And all men magnify the name
Of those who through great trials came.
But for the student none
[ ? ]
To
[ ? ] her woes in
[ ? ] than
His trials all in darkness hid,
His deeds will none to glosy bid.
All think his life a life of rest,
All think no troubles “stir his breast,
But that his life’s is full of
[ ? ]
Must he one
[ ? ] same of pleasure
Then think not this too vain.
To sing for him a
[ ? ] strain,
And though this was in vision seen,
[ ? ] by some fairy queen,
It may some little part expose
Of all the griefs the student knows.
‘Twas but a little time ago
When, in his room, by lamp burned low,
A student sat, with rapid stride
His thoughts to’er other scenes did glide.
Now as he mused he saw draw near
That day by which the student’s fear
Is raised more high than by all days,
Though big with nations’ destinies.
But ere he sees the dread day rise
He thinks on how each student tries.
While some had
[ ? ]to do their part,
Yet others, with a fearless heart,
Forgetful of that dreadful day
Which should inspect each student’s way,
Had spent the pleasant days of fall,
Away gloomy college hall,
In gathering nuts from hick’ry trees
Or
[ ? ] in the balmy breeze.
These nuts devoured, the shells they pour
Through every hall on every floor
And oft in chapel might be seen
There youth low and vacant
[ ? ],
E’en Regarding neither time nor place, Nor yet that
Eating nuts like this would
[ ? ]
The spot where acorns strew the ground
Devouring acorns when they dine.
Regardless of both looks and name
thinking coming in from whom
Nor looking up to whence they came.
But when cold winter blistered round
These students of times might be found
Close in their rooms at games of chess,
Deeming themselves in perfect bliss.
Now what a time for such as these,
Who all with conscience ill at ease,
All unprepared and such a day!
Now ready to each deed repay
Urging to meet that great array!
Those fearless hearts of courage reft
At games of chess no pleasure’s left.
The day has come, that hour of dread,
More fearful than
[ ? ] bed,
Now call’s the students to appear
And show how they have spent the year.
Now in the room are gathered round
Both teachers grave and men renowned,
Who’ve scoured the plains of science wide, And deep in classics
stores have [ ? ].
And all intent to know full well
How each has made the lessons tell.
The roll is called each student now,
With fear so pictured on his brow,
would from all make pity flow
But those so bent his worth to know.
All of the
[ ? ]in dread suspense
Grow pale with fear, bereft of sense,
As each one
[ ? ] the
[ ? ] fate
Will
[ ? ] his
[ ? ]
And
[ ? ] thou are in
[ ? ]
Whose wasted near has
[ ? ] away
Youth maybe but shall at chess acquired,
And brains which are with folly fired.
The
[ ? ] began with constinnation
See one
[ ? ] taken
His hair erect, his knees a shakey
And all his frame with fear
[ ? ]
Now for a time he drags along
he now is right, he now is wrong,
Until they all his worth have found
Then, call the
[ ? ] one to be ground
But when they to these saves his come
And find that they are wholly dumb,
They’re straightway from the college led
To swell the number of the dead;
This way wise Pythag’ons old,
As is in
[ ? ] told,
Dealt with those dullards who revealed
Their low for ease moro’n than the field
Where students delve in classic lore
Or over mathematics
[ ? ].
Well thus they go
[ ? ] the whole
Some lay
[ ? ]
Well thus they go arround, the
[ ? ]
Some answer well while
[ ? ]
Cannot the slightest trail search pass through bear,
So must receive the justice due
And in a wretched fate must share;
And like their comrades named before,
No more shall pass the college
Are the college door.
So now they’ve all their trail had,
Except himself, both good and bad,
And, since they must his knowledge try,
Now upon him they cast their eye,
With eager haste to him ensnare
Like eagles on a frightened hare.
So now he sees that ’tis his fate
Some problems to elucidate,
Though hard he strives ’tis all in vain,
Through fright all words have left his brain.
At length with fear his so replete
His teacher tells him”Take your seat”,
And all, with one consent, agree
That he in college must not be,
Since not a word to them his shown
That he’s, at all, in wisdom grown,
Now to his room himself he takes.
When, from his reverie he wakes.
And finds it all a dream too true,
He’s not this
[ ? ] yet passed through,
But only in a vision seen
Their fates foreshown by fairy queen.
South Jackson
Jan. 18. 1860.
Composition Nov 7.
The Bolt Which Strikes The Towering Cedardead
Oft Passes Harmless oe’r The Hazel’s Head
Caroden S. Burge.
Kalamazoo,
April 28th
1860.
Composition No. 9.
Poem No 3.
The Bolt Which Strikes The Towering Cedardead
Oft Passes Harmless oe’r The Hazel’s Head
When we look around us upon all races
of men, from the rude barbarian, to that
one which has reached the highest degree
of civilization, we see an almost universal
desire to humble those who have reached
a higher degree of wealth, honor, or wisdom
than themselves. Although all must ad-
mit, at least in their own minds, that
this is wrong, how few of us are there,
who are perfectly free from this!
We may look upon some man, who is
holding a high position, and receiving
applause from every quarter, and think
that he, at least, is free from the hatred
and envy of others. But only let an oppor-
tunity of dishonoring him present itself.
no matter how occasioned, whether by mis-
fortune, or by the desires of jealous men,
and we find that none are wanting to
aid in sinking him to the lowest depth
of infamy, even though there is nothing
which could lead them to such acts, save
that by untiring zeal he has gained
greater glory than themselves, who have
never merited it. Nor is this alone so
with man, but even in animals this same
feeling is manifest, in kind towards kind,
and in individual ones toward each other.
Since, so long as no opportunity presents
itself to one of these, of venting his hatred
upon a superior, he will seem to confess the
superiority of the other. But as soon as a fit
time is given, you will see that this was only
forced, and he only waited an occasion, to try
to bring his fellow lower than himself.
Although one may say that his natural
enmity produces something of this, yet this
feeling seems to be doubled by the greater
ability of his fellow.
It almost seems as if we might at=
tribute this same feeling to nature itself:
for many times, as some object of nature
rears itself to some lofty position, either
the sharp lightning, or the howling temp-
est will lay it prostrate.
The oak which rears its towering head so high,
Its proud top waving in the ethereal sky,
Oft tempts the jagged lightning to descend,
Its iron trunk beneath the stroke must bend,
And thundering from its lofty place on high
Now prone in dust its mighty form must lie.
No more, to evening, breeze its branches wave,
No sweet songsters from its
[ ? ] shall sing,
Their praises to that bounteous God who gave
To them these joyful notes in fragrant
[ ? ]
That trunk so fit to form the ships tall mast
In countless fragments o’er the ground is strewn,
And soon the place where it withstood the blast
Of wintry tempests will no more be known.
Among the sons of men there of are found
Those who in wisdow or in art abound
More than their fellow men, who round them
[ ? ]
And own that praise is due from ev’ry hand.
But soon some jealous eye sees his renown,
And seeks to drag their worthy beans down.
There was a sculptor, who by wondrous art
Could to cold marble almost life impart;
And Grecians to their Phidias gave
All honors which most greedy men could crave
Thus for a time all men in wonder gaze.
But soon some breast with envy made to blaze
Sends the bold arrow of this fiendish art,
And seeks from him his just renown to part.
O wondrous Phidias, thou no more shalt stand,
For that dread power which envy can command
Has fixed its aim on thee, and thou must fall,
Thy flesh shall waste away in prison small,
And to the earth they frame committed be
Before full course of life is run by thee.
What matter, though a friends praise did in- flame
that fiend like passion to destroy his name.
Since ’twas his station did direct the yes
Of those base dastards, who such worth despises
O cruel man! that thou shouldst e’er desire
To quench before its time this martal fire.
Is not the time appointed unto man
Full short t’accompish our Creator’s plan?
With cities too we see the same proved true;
For look at Ahens which so mighty grew.
How did the cities aid her overthrow
Since she above them by her zeal did grow!
Look where you will you see it all the same
Men, cities, nations, as they see for fame
All things which are within the walks of man
Oe’rthrow ther fellows, when by art they can,
If e’er they rise above their own degree,
Howe’er well earned their dignity may be.
But should all things from this refuse to rise,
Since thus they may attract some jealous o yes!
As well the cedar might refuse to grow
Since thus it may attempt
Since it must tempt the forked lightning’s blow.
Is not the cedar the more honored far.
E’en though its splendid shape the lightning man
And in in the dust may lay its branches fair
Its trunk in splinters scattered here and there,
Than the small hazel, which, e’en though in spite,
The
[ ? ] lightning would disdain to smite?
Should other oaks from this refuse to grow
Above the shrub which their side now stands.
Since now and then the wrathful lightnings blow
May lay a fellow prostrate in the sands,
What one would mast those life like ships which go
With life all frighted for to distant lands?
Had Phidias old not tried to learn the way
By which he could such life to stone impart,
Since he had known that from his fame some day
Would rise a strife, and stay this mortal part,
He may have lived till he was old and grey,
But would he have the praise of every heart?
Had Athens been content to be as small
As some small towns which sound her then did grow
Ne’r had those ancient cities in her fall
Combined to execute her overthrow,
But would all nations on this rolling ball?
Lament her throes for liberty to know?
These very dangers which were made to dare
When one would wish a laureled crown to wear
But show whose worthy of a laureled crown,
E’en those who dare to face all evils down.
Since many, who to gain these gifts may long,
Dare not to raise their head above the thron.
Of
[ ? ] being which each comes fills
Lest they might thus be mad a mark for ills.
Then ye who would of future praises taste
Or useful be, now bravely stem the blast.
Fear not to meet the glance of jealous eyes.
Fear not the foes which in your pathway rise.
Fear not to rise above the vulgar crowd
Lest you gain their imprecations loud,
If only you are true to God and man
True to yourself, and swerve not from this plan.
Whate’er assail cleave to the side of right.
And ne’er exception make in greatest blight,
Then if the jealous toy to spoil your fame
E’en though you die, die martyr to your name.
