Burge, Caroden S. – October 13, 1860

Michigan Civil War Collection

Click here for this soldier’s biography: http://micivilwar.com/authors/burge-caroden-s/
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.