And sleep in dull cold marble, where no mention
Of me more must be heard of,-say I taught thee.
Say, Wolsey-that once trod the ways of glory,
And sounded all the depths and shoals of honour,-
Found thee a way out of his wreck to rise in;
A sure and safe one, though thy master miss'd it.
Mark but my fall, and that that ruin'd me.
Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away ambition;
By that sin fell the angels, how can man then,
The image of his Maker, hope to win by it?
BE JUST AND FEAR NOT;

Let all the ends, thou aimʼst at, be thy country's,
Thy God's and truth's.

O Cromwell, Cromwell,

Had I but serv'd my God with half the zeal
I serv'd my king, he would not in mine age
Have left me naked to mine enemies."

HENRY VIII. Act iii.

You will allow me to express the same thought in the nguage of another, whose name, like Shakspeare's, is to down to latest times-he who desired to produce that hich the "world would not willingly let die.”

"Fame is the spur that the clear spirit doth raise,
(That last infirmity of noble minds)

To scorn delights, and live laborious days;

But the fair guerdon when we hope to find,
And think to burst out into sudden blaze,
Comes the blind Fury with the abhorred shears,
And slits the thin-spun life. 'But not the praise.'
'Fame is no plant that grows on mortal soil,
Nor in the glistering foil

Set off to the world, nor in broad rumour lies:
But lives and spreads aloft by those pure eyes
And perfect witness of' God 'above

As he pronounces lastly on each deed;

Of so much fame in heaven expect thy meed.'”

LYCIDAS.

fields are now open for securing an honourable What new heights of glory are there now to c regions of science remain to be explored? partment in the arts can we hope to perpetua and the memory? Can any aspirant for fame hope to surpass Demosthenes or Cicero; or equ Chatham? Can any one in the arts, hope to pl beside that of Phidias or Praxiteles; of Rap chael Angelo? Can any one hope to sing th heroes like him of Scio, or the bard of Mant bed his name by immortal song in the languag ture of his country, like Tasso, or Dante, or there any one now who can open new fields in the heavens like those on which the eye o Brahè, or Newton, first among mortals, gazed equal Mansfield in our father-land, and Mar own, on the bench? Who is again to lay the of science, broad and deep, in some new Novu

I answer these questions, which seem fitted hearten and discourage, by observing, that the means explored; the harvest is not wholly reap sibility of being gratefully remembered by good opinion is of value is not hopeless. To th just entering on the career of life, I may obser start under uncommon advantages. You en way with all the benefits of the labours, the profound thinking, the patient sufferings, thoughts, the eloquence, the patriotism of a You begin where those whom the world loves and to immortalize, left off. You begin with of the profoundest thinkers of other times, on vernment, religion and laws, as THE ELEMEN

fruits of all the self-denials and the sacrifices; the prond studies; the skilful inventions, and the sufferings of t times. Every happy discovery; every useful inven; every improvement of the past, has contributed its t to the refinement and intelligence of the age in which live. There has not been a philosopher who has not ught for you; not a traveller who has not travelled for ; not a defender of human rights who has not bled for 1; not a profound student who has not contributed someg to the general mass of knowledge which now blesses ir condition; and not a martyr, the benefits of whose th you are not reaping in the religion whose smiles and shine you now enjoy. "Other men have laboured, and I enter into their labours." For you-if you will have o-Plato and Bacon lived; for you Galileo invented the scope; Godfrey the quadrant; Gioia of Amalfi discoed the properties of the magnet, and Fulton perfected steam-engine; for you, Newton, and Herschell, and pler watched the stars of night; for you Columbus disered the new world; for you Washington and Lafayette ght the battles of freedom; for you Hancock, and Henry, Ames, and Adams roused the nation to liberty; and for Marshall lived to explain the great principles of the stitution. What an inheritance-rich above all the alth of Croesus, and honourable above all that coronets crowns could give! All in liberty, in science, in religion, in the arts that is valuable is to be intrusted to you;— ou—to defend, to perfect, to transmit to future times. t is much to have such an inheritance; much at the being of our way to be placed on such an eminence. It uld not discourage us as if nothing remained to be done. en these names are looked at, it should stimulate us to

worlds to conquer. In every field of scientif and in every department of poetry, eloquence, there remains enough to be done to fill the high of honourable ambition, or to gratify the hig investigation. In the science of astronomy-v our knowledge-yet how little, comparatively, d We have named a small portion of the stars; termined the distance and periods of the worlds pose the system to which we belong; we hav ceeded-after ages of unsuccessful effort-in the parallax of one-and but one-fixed star! little is known of those distant worlds! How litt be known! For who can tell what more per ments; more patient observation; more profou tion; or perchance some new system of number be to fluxions what fluxions were to simple geon yet determine in respect to that magnificent ar tems, that shall fill man with more elevated con God! In the sciences of chemistry, of anatom mathematics; in the application of science to life; I will add, in the sciences of morals and the much yet remains to be known! Remember and beautiful declaration of the aged Newton. know what I may appear to the world; but to my only to have been like a boy playing on the sea diverting myself in now and then finding a smoo or a prettier shell than ordinary, while the grea truth lay all undiscovered before me."* A few been picked up since his time, but the great oce remains still unexplored.

* Brewster's Life of Newton, pp. 300, 301.

hole field is still open.

vould reply by saying, that in is country, at least, te The measure of military reputan is indeed filled up, and the world will look hereafter th fewer smiles on the blood-stained hero than in days it are past. The time is coming, also, and is near at nd, when a man who attempts to defend his reputation shedding the blood of another, will only exclude himf from all the expressions of approval and of confidence long men. Reputation is not to be gained, that will be value, by brilliant verse, that shall unsettle the foundans of faith and hope; that shall fill the soul with misanopy, or that shall corrupt the heart by foul and offene images. Sickening night-shades enough of this kind ve already been culled, and twisted around the brows of ose great in title or in talent. The sentiment has gone th, not to be recalled, that he who is to be held in lasting, ateful remembrance, must base his claims on true virtue; tried patriotism; on a generous love of the species; the vindication of injured virtue; on great plans to adnce the permanent welfare of man.

With this principle to act on, and this end in view, our nd presents a field where to gain an honourable reputation wide and glorious as the world has ever known. It is a nd where there is enough intelligence to appreciate learng and talent; and where there is justice enough to do ht to well-meant endeavours to defend our liberties, or to omote the welfare of the race. It is a land where, if any here, a man may be sure that justice will be done to his me while living, and to his memory when dead. It is a nd where a noble deed will strike far into coming times; d where its influence is to be felt in far distant parts of e world. For God has reserved this land as the theatre