For the Hopkinsian Magazine.

A POEM,

SPOKEN SEVERAL YEARS AGO, ON THE ANNIVERSARY OF A LITERARY SO

CIETY.

Ir poets, as we're told, are born, not made,
Why, then should constant working at the trade,
For tedious years, be needful to impart
Ease, grace, perfection, in the useful art?
Why call it art? As far as instinct goes,
No animal the least improvement knows.
The maxim's false in part; in part 'tis true :
Something to nature, much to art is due:
Nature the raw material must supply;

But practice weaves the woof, and gives the dye.

When tun'd a harp, that ne'er has known a lay,
Since four full lustrums slow have roll'd away,
No one, with candour due, expects to hear
Soft harmony salute the listening ear.

Tho' rude the numbers, yet the theme's refined-
The power of Virtue o'er the human mind,
To rouse its energies, its views extend,
Direct its efforts to a noble end,

While cultivating the luxuriant soil,

Where sheaves of Science richly pay the toil.

What's virtue? Not that stern, relentless thing,
While Greek and Roman bards were wont to sing-
Contempt of danger, mockery of death,
To gain a puff of Adulation's breath;
Synonymous with valour, stoic pride,
Its highest boast, successful homicide.
If this were virtue, happy for our kind,
Had vice alone possess'd the human mind.
No hero then had been, that scourge of man,
An Alexander, Cæsar, Corsican.

Shall the mere absence of disgraceful crime,
Be virtuous call'd, that epithet sublime ?

Who would apply the names of heat and light,
To arctic coldness, or Egyptian night?

Pride, avarice, ambition, when combin'd,
May cause an equilibrium in the mind;

As ballanc'd powers produce a show of peace,
And make hostilities awhile to cease;
Or elements at bay each other keep,
And hush wild chaos to a transient sleep.
Who's just for pelf, or temperate for fame,
Deserves no recompense, but loss and shame.
Virtue's the stream, that issues pure and clear,
From the sweet fountain of a heart sincere ;
A heart from pride, lust, selfishness refin'd,

Assimilated to the ETERNAL MIND,

In whom no darkness dwells, but light and love,
Diffusing good on earth, and joy above.
From true religion's stem, on which it
grows,
Virtue, the scion, germinates and blows,
Scenting the Spring of life with odours sweet,
And ripening into fruit for Autumn meet.

By virtue purifi'd, the soul of youth,
Pursues, with ardent zeal, the path of truth;
More than for hidden treasure, plies the mine
Of useful knowledge, human and divine;
Loathes the dry husks of fiction and romance,
With all the trash from Germany and France,
As food too flatulent to satisfy

A mind, that claims its kindred to the sky.
Needs such a youth, of fear or shame the force,
To stimulate his literary course?

Far nobler motives actuate his soul,

Sloth, passion, appetite, and lust, controul.
He loves to trace the rays of skill divine,

Which through the vari'd works of nature shine,
To view the steps Almighty Power has trod,

And "look through nature, up to nature's God;"
But most, with metaphysic ken, to seek,

In that chief product of creation's week,

The human mind, in God's own image wrought,

The power, the laws, the viewless flight of thought; The faculty of knowing good from ill,

The exercise, spontaneous, of the will,

Which freedom give, and man, the creature, bind

To love and serve the UNCREATED MIND.

Knowledge the means, his highest end and aim,
To please his Maker, glorify his name,
Do good to men, as far as in him lies,

And aid them in their progress to the skies.
Genius, by motives prompted, so sublime,
May swift the steep ascent of science climb,
In nature's knowledge with a Newton vie,
Explore, like Locke, the mind's philosophy,
Like Milton, Young or Cowper, strike the lyre,
Like Edwards, light the shrine with hallow'd fire
T'illume the path of pilgrims here below,
To realms, where holy joys perennial flow.

Thus Spencer rose, that youth of lovely mien,
In whom "were genius, candour, meekness seen,"
From vale of poverty and birth obscure,
Prompted by principles sublime and pure,
To eminence of knowledge, wisdom, grace,
Attain'd by few in life's protracted space.

If measured by his deeds, though short his span,
It overleap'd the common bounds of man.

Vice, foe to Science, clouds the mental eye
With films of prejudice, of jaundice-dye;
Sheds poppies o'er the intellectual sense,
Steeping the soul in drowsy indolence ;
Palsies the active energies of will,
While fairy forms the sickly fancy fill,

And dreams of good and great, which promise fair,
But tantalize, then vanish into air.

Why weepest thou, Philander? Tell thy grief:

To vent thy sorrow may afford relief.

"I had a son-Comely in form the child,

Of genius bright and disposition mild.
On him affection yearn'd and hope reli'd
To honour, cheer and prop life's evening-tide.
Delusive hope! He left à parent's roof,
As fondness ween'd, against temptation proof.
Scarce had he tasted the Pierian fount,

Scarce Science' steep ascent begun to mount ;
When sons of mirth and folly, wine and song,
Around him, artless, unsuspecting, throng;
First ridicule his soberness away,
With infidel-suggestions of the day;
Next the inebriating draught infuse;

Then teach his tongue prophane discourse to use,
'Gainst sacred names and sacred things to rail,

Truth sent from heaven, with folly's shaft's assail.

Allur'd in dissipation's round to reel,

Reason dethron'd, his conscience turn'd to steel,
Heedless in the destroyer's path he's led,

Whose steps are death, and hell her lustful bed,
To virtue lost, in indolence and crime,

He wastes the golden hours of youthful prime.
Shallow, conceited, ignorant and vain,
as the meanly plods along in dulness' train.
With mental energy, his health decays,
Decrepit, in the morning of his days.

here Extinguish'd by disease the vital flame,

Death's dark oblivion shrouds his guilt and shame.
Though taught to bow, and not 'gainst heaven repine;
Say, do not tears become such grief as mine ?"

Reverse the picture. View that happy pair.
What sparkling joys their smiling features wear.
Before thear stands the pledge of mutual love,
The choicest gift received from heaven above-
The son, who gain'd their hearts, enjoy'd their care,

For whom ascended many a fervent prayer.
His early genius open'd fair and bright,

Drank dews of grace, and shunn'd of vice the blight.
Sinners entic'd, but ne'er could gain ascent;
In search of truth his youthful hours were spent.
With rapid steps, in wisdom's path he trod,
And grew in favour, both with man and God.
Now justly holds, arriv'd at man's estate,
His station with the learn'd, the good, the great,
To do him reverence, hoary heads arise,
And prattling infants lisp his name, the wise.
Honours on earth his growing worth attend,
And peace and joy in heaven await his end.
On memory's page, his name shall flourish late,
Like HOWARD the good, or WASHINGTON the great.

O, then, ye sages, who, with honour due,
Trace out the steps, which ardent youth pursue;
To whom parental hearts the trust confide,
O'er Science' sacred temple to preside,

With firmness, from her consécrated haunt,
-Bid Vice and Infidelity avaunt !

No longer from her altars, let arise

The foul perfume of human sacrifice.

Her fountains, teaming with Castalian dews,

With purifying particles infuse,

Whence streams, like that, which wealth to Egypt yields,
May wind the vales and fertilize the fields.
Then from her dome, shall emenate a ray,
To chase the shades of ignorance away,
To light her votaries up the shining road,
Columbia's patriots, sages, saints have trod,
Who serv'd their generation and their God.

ORIGIN

OF TRANSUBSTANTIATION. "About the year 830, a new and famous controversy sprang up, relating to the holy Eucharist. Pascarius Radbert, abbot of Corbey, published a book concerning the Sacrament of the Lord's Supper; in which he maintained, that after the priesthood consecrated the elements of bread and wine, nothing remained of them but the eternal figure, and that under this, the real body of Christ was locally present. He further affirmed, that this sacramental body of Christ was the

very same, that had been born of the Virgin, that had suffered upon the cross, and that arose from the grave.

This unheard-of doctrine created general astonishment and as it was full of the most palpable absurdity, one would have thought it would have been universally exploded. Yet such was the force of sophistry, priestcraft and superstition, in those ages of ignorance, that it met with many abettors. Novel and ridiculous as the doctrine was, the Church of Rome espous