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When death his purple garment threw
On Helle's consecrated shore .

Land of the Muse! within thy bowers
Her soul-entrancing echoes rung,
While on their course the rapid hours
Paused at the melody she sung--
Till every grove and every hill,
And every stream that flow'd along,
From morn to night repeated still
The winning harmony of song.

Land of dead heroes! living slaves
Shall glory gild thy clime no more?
Her banner float above thy waves
Where proudly it hath swept before?
Hath not remembrance then a charm
To break the fetters and the chain,
To bid thy children nerve the arm,
And strike for freedom once again?

No! coward souls, the light which shone
On Leuctra's war-empurpled day,
The light which beam'd on Marathon
Hath lost its splendor, ceased to play;
And thou art but a shadow now.
With helmet shatter’d—spear in rust—
Thy honor but a dream—and thou
Despised—degraded in the dust

Where sleeps the spirit that of old
Dash'd down to earth the Persian plume,
When the loud chant of triumph told
How fatal was the despot's doom —
The bold three hundred—where are they,
Who died on battle's gory breast :
Tyrants have trampled on the clay
Where death hath hush'd them into rest. -

Yet, Ida, yet upon thy hill
A glory shines of ages fled;
And Fame her light is pouring still,
Not on the living, but the dead!
But 'tis the dim, sepulchral light,
Which sheds a faint and feeble ray,
As moonbeams on the brow of night,
When tempests sweep upon their way.

Greece' yet awake thee from thy trance,
Behold, thy banner waves afar;
Behold, the glittering weapons glance
Along the gleaming front of war!
A gallant chief, of high emprize,
Is urging foremost in the field,
Who calls upon thee to arise
In might—in majesty reveal’d.

In vain, in vain the hero calls— -
In vain he sounds the trumpet loud :

His banner totters—see it falls
In ruin, Freedom's battle-shroud:

Thy children have no soul to dare
Such deeds as glorified their sires;

Their valor's but a meteor's glare,
Which gleams a moment, and expires.

Lost land 1 where Genius made his reign,
And rear'd his golden arch on high;
Where Science raised her sacred fane,
Its summits peering to the sky;
Upon thy clime the midnight deep
Of ignorance hath brooded long,
And in the tomb, forgotten, sleep
The sons of science and of song.

Thy sun hath set—the evening storm
Hath pass'd in giant fury by,
To blast the beauty of thy form,
And spread its pall upon the sky |
Gone is thy glory's diadem,
And freedom never more shall cease
To pour her mournful requiem
O'er blighted, lost, degraded Greece:


Mrs. MARY E. BRooks, the wife of James G. Brooks, was born in New York, in which city she has resided since the death of her husband. Besides her productions in the volume mentioned in the notice of her husband, she has contributed some beautiful poetry to a number of periodicals, from which we select the following little gem


Oh, weep not for the dead!
Rather, oh, rather give the tear
To those who darkly linger here,
When all besides are fled !
Weep for the spirit withering,
In its cold, cheerless sorrowing;
Weep for the young and lovely one
That ruin darkly revels on,
But never be a tear-drop shed
For them, the pure enfranchised dead.

Oh, weep not for the dead!
No more for them the blighting chill,
The thousand shades of earthly ill,

The thousand thorns we tread;

Weep for the life-charm early flown,
The spirit broken, bleeding, lone;
Weep for the death-pangs of the heart,
Ere being from the bosom part; +
But never be a tear-drop given
To those that rest in yon blue heaven.


REv. MARK Hopkins, D.D., son of Archibald Hopkins, of Stockbridge, Massachusetts, was born on the 4th of February, 1802, and graduated at Williams College in 1824, with the highest honors of his class. He entered at once upon the study of medicine, but the next year was appointed tutor in Williams College, and filled the office for two years, devoting his leisure time to the profession he had chosen. In 1829, the degree of M.D. was conferred upon him by the Pittsfield Medical College, and he went to New York to settle as a physician. The next year, however, he was elected to the Professorship of Rhetoric and Moral Philosophy in Williams College, and entered upon the discharge of its duties. In May, 1833, he was licensed to preach. In 1836, Dr. Griffin having resigned the Presidency of Williams College, Dr. Hopkins was elected his successor. He has continued to fill that important post ever since, and with an efficiency and ability that have made him second to no one who ever presided over a New-England college. His peculiar tact in imparting instruction,-his powerful influence over young men, exciting both their reverence and their love, his dignified yet affable manners, his kind and sympathizing heart, make him peculiarly fitted for the position he occupies. And when to these characteristics is added an intellect of great strength, as well as great breadth of view, combined with a rare fertility of illustration, we can readily conceive what an influence he must exert in giving “form and pressure” to hundreds of minds that are, in their turn, to take a leading part in moulding and directing public opinion.

Dr. Hopkins's published works are, Lectures on the Evidences of Christianity, delivered before the Lowell Institute in 1844; a volume of Miscellaneous Essays and Discourses, in 1847; and a large number of orations, sermons, and addresses, delivered on various occasions. Of the latter, the “Baccalaureates,” delivered every year at commencement, to the senior class, deserve especial commendation for their wise counsel, their winning eloquence, and their glowing exhortations to young men to pursue through life “whatsoever things are true, just, pure, lovely, and of good report.”


I would here observe, that the question concerning the origin of Christianity cannot be disposed of by a general reference to the facility with which mankind are deluded, and the frequency of impostures in the world. To put aside the question of its origin by telling us that mankind are easily deceived, is much the same as it would be to put aside the question about the origin of the Gulf Stream by telling us that water is an element very easily moved in different directions. Certainly, water is a fluctuating and unstable element; but to say this, is not to account for a broad current in mid-ocean that has been uniform since time began; nor is it any account of a uniform current of thought and feeling, setting in one direction for eighteen hundred years, to say that the human mind is fluctuating and unstable; that man has been often deceived; and that there have been great extravagances in belief. The origin of such a movement is to be investigated, and not to be shrouded in mist. The New Testament gives a full and satisfactory account of it; and it behooves those who do not receive that account, to substitute some other that shall, at least, be plausible. This they have failed to do. Perhaps no one was more competent to do this, or has been more successful, than Gibbon; and yet the five causes which he assigns for the spread of Christianity— namely, “the zeal of Christians,” “their doctrine of a future life,” “the miraculous powers ascribed to the primitive church,” “their pure and austere morals,” and “their union"—are obviously effects of that very religion of which they are assigned as the cause. To me, when I look at this religion, taking its point of departure from the earliest period in the history of the race; when I see it analogous to nature; when I see it comprising all that natural religion teaches, and introducing a new system in entire harmony with it, but which could not have been deduced from it; when I see it commending itself to the conscience of man, containing a perfect code of morals, meeting all his moral wants, and embosoming the only true principles of economical and political science; when I see in it the best possible system of excitement and restraint for all the faculties; when I see how simple it is in its principle, and yet in how many thousand ways it mingles in with human affairs and modifies them for good, so that it is adapted to become universal; when I see it giving an account of the termination of all things, worthy of God and consistent with reason;–to me, when I look at all these things, it no more seems possible that the system of Christianity should have been originated or sustained by man, than it does that the ocean should have been made by him. Lowell Lectures.


. And now, my beloved friends, in bringing to a close my relations to you as an instructor, what can I wish better for you per

sonally, or for the world in your relations to it, than that you should take for your actuating and sustaining principle, faith in God? Without this, you will lack the highest element of happiness, and the only adequate ground of support; life will be without dignity, and death without hope. Only by faith can you run that race which is set before you, as before those of old. In this world-your courses may be different: you will choose different professions, and diverge widely in your lines of life. To some of you, the race here may be brief. One whom I addressed the last year, as I do you to-day, now sleeps in death. But whatever this may be, and whether longer or shorter, before you all there is set the same race under the moral government of God; to you all is held out the same prize. Why should you not run this race? Never was there a time in the history of the world when moral heroes were more needed. The world waits for such. The providence of God has commanded science to labor and prepare the way for such. For them she is laying her iron tracks, and stretching her wires, and bridging the oceans. But where are they 7 Who shall breathe into our civil and political relations the breath of a higher life? Who shall couch the eyes of a paganized science, and of a pantheistic philosophy, that they may see God? Who shall consecrate to the glory of God the triumphs of science? Who shall bear the life-boat to the stranded and perishing nations? Who should do these things, if not you?—not in your relations to time only, but to eternity and to the universe of God. And, as seen in the light of faith, what a race what an arenal what a prize 1 Gird yourselves, then, for this race; run it with patience, “looking unto Jesus.” The world may not notice or know you, for it knew him not. It may persecute you, for it persecuted him; but in the Lord Jehovah is everlasting strength. He will be with you; he will sustain you;-the great cloud of witnesses will encompass you; they will wait to hail you with acclamation as you shall reach the goal and receive the prize. That goal may

you all reach —that prize may you all receive l Close of the Baccalaureate for 1850.


Would you, then, it may be asked, exclude the imagination and the class of emotions excited by the fine arts from divine worship? I answer, No. But I would have them called forth by the attributes, and by the present or the remembered works, of God, rather than by the works of man. If I cannot worship in the broad temple of God's works; if I cannot, like the Saviour, pray upon a mountain, where, it may be, the starry heavens are above

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