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The following Idea of a Seminary of Learning, adapted to the circumstances of a young colony, was drawn up and published, at the desire of some gentlemen of NewYork, who were appointed to receive proposals relative to the establishment of a College in that province; and as it contains a pretty exact representation of what the author is now endeavouring to realize in the Seminary over which he has the honour to preside in another colony, he thought that it might be no improper introduction tò the subsequent account of that Seminary.

In a performance written in so early a period of life, and designedly offered as a plan for improvement, the reader will not look for perfection. In this edition, however, some redundancies are retrenched, and some faults corrected, into which, want of experience, hasty publication, and too easy assent, had drawn the author.




IT comes! it comes the promis'd æra comes ! Now Gospel Truth shall dissipate the glooms Of Pagan Error-and, with cheerful ray O'er long benighted realms shed heavenly day. Hark! the glad Muses strike the warbling string, And in melodious accents, thus they sing « Woods, Brooks, Gales, Fountains, long unknown to Faine, At length, as conscious of your future claim, Prepare to nurse the philosophic thought, To prompt the serious or the sportive note! Prepare, ye Woods, to yield the Sage your shade, And wave ambrosial verdures o'er his head! Ye Brooks prepare to swell the Poet's strain, Or gently murmur back his am'rous pain ! Haste, O ye Gales, your spicy sweets impart, In music breathe them to the exulting heart ! Ye Fountains, haste the inspiring wave to roll, And bid Castalian draughts refresh the soul!"

'Tis done-woods, brooks, gales, fountains, all obey ;
And say, with general voice, or seem to say-
“ Hail Heaven-descended, holy Science hail !
Thrice welcome to these shores; here ever dwell
With shade and silence, far from dire alarms,
The trumpet's horrid clang and din of arms:
To thee we offer every softer seat,
Each sunny lawn and sylvan sweet retreat,
Each flower verg'd stream, each amber-dropping grove,
Each vale of pleasure and each bower of love,


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Where youthful nature with stupendous scenes,
Lists all the powers, and all the frame serenes
Oh! then, here fix-earth, water, air invite,
And bid a new Britannia spring to light.

Smit deep, I antedate the golden days, And strive to paint them in sublimer lays. Behold! on periods, periods brightening rise, On worthies, worthies croud before mine eyes! See other Bacons, Newtons, Lockes appear, And to the skies their laureat honours rear! Amidst undying greens they lie inspir'd, On mossy beds, by heavenly visions fir'd; Aloft they soar on Contemplation's wing O'er worlds and worlds, and reach th' eternal King! Awak'd by other suns, and kindling strong With purest ardour for celestial song, Hark! other Homers, Virgils touch the string, And other Popes and Miltons, joyous, sing; Find other Twit'nams in each bowery wood, And other Tibers in each sylvan flood!

Lo! the wild Indian, soften’d by their song,
Emerging from his arbours, bounds along
The green Savannah, patient of the lore
Of dove-ey'd Wisdom, and is rude no more.
Hark! even his babes Messiah's praise proclaim,
And fondly learn to lisp Jehovah's name !

Oh! Science! onward thus thy reign extend O'er realms yet unexplor'd till time shall end; Till death-like ignorance forsake the ball, And life endearing knowledge cover all; Till wounded slavery seek her native hell, With kindred fiends eternally to dwell! Not trackless deserts shall thy progress stay, Rocks, mountains, floods, before thee shall give way;

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