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of the rich; and while it greatly multiplies and enhances the enjoyments of time, helps to train up the soul for the bliss of eternity.


[From an Address before the Mass. Mechanic Association.} Besides all that may be hoped for, by the diligent and ingenious use of the materials for improvement, afforded by the present state of the arts, the progress of science

teaches us to believe, that principles, elements, and 5 powers, are in existence and operation around us, of

which we have a very imperfect knowledge, perhaps no knowledge whatever.

Commencing with the mariner's compass, in the middle ages, a series of discoveries have been made, connecied 10 with magnetism, electricity, galvanism, the polarity of

light, and the electro-magnetic phenomena, which are occupying so much attention at the present day, all of which are more or less applicable to the useful arts, and

which may well produce the conviction that, if, in some 15 respects, we are at the meridian, we are, in other respects, in the dawn of science.

In short, all art is a creation of the mind of man ;-an essence of infinite capacity for improvement. And it is

of the nature of every intelligence, endowed with such a 20 capacity, however mature in respect to the past, to be at

all times, in respect to the future, in a state of hopeful infancy. However vast the space measured behind, the space before is immeasurable ; and though the mind may

estimate the progress it has made, the boldest stretch of 25 its powers is inadequate to measure the progress of which it is capable. Let me say, then, PERSEVERE. Do

ask what

you have done, and what you are doing, for the public good ?

Send them to your exhibition rooms, and let them see the 30 walls of the Temple of American Liberty, * fitly covered with the products of American art.

And while they gaze, with admiration, on these creations of the mechanical arts of the country, bid them remember that they are the pro

ductions of a people, whose fathers were told by the 35 British ministry, they should not manufacture a hob-nail.

Does any one ask, in disdain, for the great names who have illustrated the mechanic arts; tell him of Arkwright and Watt, of Franklin, of Whitney and Fulton, whose memory will dwell in the grateful recollections of pos

* Faneuil Hall.

terity, when the titled and laureled destroyers of mankind 5 shall be remembered only with detestation.

Mechanics of America, respect your calling, respect yourselves. The cause of human improvement has no firmer, or more powerful friends. In the great temple of

nature, whose foundation is the earth,—whose pillars are 10 the eternal hills,—whose roof is the star-lit sky,—whose

organ-tones are the whispering breeze and the sounding storm,—whose architect is God, there is no ministry more noble than that of the intelligent mechanic!


DANIEL WEBSTER. We know, indeed, that the record of illustrious actions is most safely deposited in the universal remembrance of mankind. We know, that if we could cause this structure

to ascend, not only till it reached the skies, but till it 5 pierced them, its broad surfaces could still contain but

part of that, which, in an age of knowledge, hath already been spread over the earth, and which history charges itself with making known to all future times. We know,

that no inscription on entablatures less broad than the 10 earth itself, can carry information of the events we com

memorate, where it has not already gone; and that no structure, which shall not outlive the duration of letters and knowledge among men, can prolong the memorial.

But our object is, by this edifice, to show our own deep 15 sense of the value and importance of the achievements of

our ancestors; and, by presenting this work of gratitude to the eye, to keep alive similar sentiments, and to foster a constant regard for the principles of the revolution.

Human beings are composed not of reason only, but o 20 imagination also, and sentiment; and that is neith :r

wasted nor misapplied which is appropriated to the purpose of giving right direction to sentiments, and opening proper springs of feeling in the heart.

Let it not be supposed, that our object is to perpetuate 25 national hostility, or even to cherish a mere military

spirit. It is higher, purer, nobler. We consecrate our work to the spirit of national independence, and we wish that the light of peace may rest upon it forever. We rear a mémorial of our conviction of that unmeasured benefit, which has been conferred on our own land, and of the

happy influences, which have been produced, by the 5 same events, on the general interests of mankind.

We come, as Americans, to mark a spot, which must forever be dear to us and our posterity. We wish that whosoever, in all coming time, shall turn his eye hither,

may behold that the place is not undistinguished, where 10 the first great battle of the revolution was fought. We

wish that this structure may proclaim the magnitude and importance of that event, to every class and every age. We wish that infancy may learn the purpose of its erec

tion from maternal lips, and that wearied and withered 15 age may behold it, and be solaced by the recollections which it suggests. We wish that labor


up here, and be proud, in the midst of its toil. We wish that, in those days of disaster, which, as they come on all

nations, must be expected to come on us also, desponding 20 patriotism may turn its eyes hitherward, and be assured,

that the foundations of our national power still stand strong:

We wish that this column, rising towards heaven, among the pointed spires of so many temples dedicated 25 to God, may contribute also to produce, in all minds, a

pious feeling of dependence and gratitude. We wish, finally, that the last object on the sight of him who leaves his native shore, and the first to gladden his who revisits

it, may be something which shall remind him of the 30 liberty and the glory of his country. Let it rise, till it

meet the sun in his coming ; let the earliest light of the morning gild it, and parting day linger and play on its summit.


When Freedom from her mountain height

Unfurled her standard to the air,
She tore the azure robe of night,

And set the stars of glory there.
She mingled with its gorgeous dies
The milky baldric of the skies,
And striped its pure celestial white,
With streakings of the morning light ;






Then, from his mansion in the sun,
She called her eagle bearer down,
And gave into his mighty hand,
The symbol of her chosen land.
Majestic monarch of the cloud,

Who rear'st aloft thy regal form,
To hear the tempest trumpings loud

And see the lightning lances driven,
When strive the warriors of the storm,

And rolls the thunder-drum of heaven,-.
Child of the sun! to thee 't is given

To guard the banner of the free;
To hover in the sulphur smoke,
To ward away the battle stroke;
And bid its blendings shine afar,
Like rainbows on the cloud of war,

The harbingers of victory!
Flag of the brave! thy folds shall fly,
The sign of hope and triumph high,
When speaks the signal trumpet tone,
And the long line comes gleaming on.
Ere yet the life-blood, warm and wet,
Has dimmed the glistening bayonet,
Each soldier eye shall brightly turn
To where thy sky-born glories burn;
And, as his springing steps advance,
Catch war and vengeance from the glance;
And when the cannon-mouthings loud,
Heave in wild wreaths the battle shroud;
And gory sabres rise and fall,
Like shoots of flame on midnight's pall;
Then shall thy meteor glances glow,

And cowering foes shall shrink beneath
Each gallant arm that strikes below

That lovely messenger of death.
Flag of the seas! on ocean wave
Thy stars shall glitter o'er the brave,
When death, careering on the gale,
Sweeps darkly round the bellied sail,
And frighted waves rush wildly back,
Before the broadside's reeling rack:
Each dying wanderer of the sea,
Shall look at once to heaven and thee;






And smile to see thy splendor fly,
In triumph, o'er his closing eye.
Flag of the free heart's hope and home!

By angel hands to valor given ;
The stars have lit the welkin dome,

And all thy hues were born in heaven.
For ever float that standard sheet !

Where breathes the foe but falls before us,
With Freedom's soil beneath our feet,

And Freedom's banner streaming o'er us?




every hill,



Land of the brave! where lie inurned
The shrouded forms of mortal clay,
In whom the fire of valor burned,
And blazed upon the battle's fray;
Land where the gallant Spartan few
Bled at Thermopylæ of yore,
When death his purple garment threw
On Hellas' 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 rung;
Till every grove

And every stream that flowed 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 fetter 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 beamed on Marathon,
Hath lost its splendor, ceased to play ;
And thou art but a shadow row,
With helmet shattered, spear in rust;




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