By that dread name, we wave the sword on high,
And swear for her to live!—with her to die!

He said, and on the rampart-heights array'd
His trusty warriors, few, but undismay'd;
Firm pac'd, and slow, a horrid front they form,
Still as the breeze, but dreadful as the storm;
Low, murm'ring sounds along their banners fly,
Revenge or death, the watchword and reply;
Then peal'd the notes, omnipotent to charm,
And the loud tocsin toll'd their last alarm!-

In vain, alas! in vain, ye gallant few!
From rank to rank your volley'd thunder flew:-
Oh! bloodiest picture in the book of Time,
Sarmatia fell, unwept, without a crime;
Found not a generous friend, a pitying foe,
Strength in her arms, nor mercy in her wo!
Dropp'd from her nerveless grasp the shatter'd spear,
Clos'd her bright eye, and curb'd her high career;—
Hope, for a season, bade the world farewell,
And Freedom shriek'd-as KOSCIUSKO fell!

The sun went down, nor ceas'd the carnage there,
Tumultuous murder shook the midnight air-
On Prague's proud arch the fires of ruin glow,
His blood-dy'd waters murm'ring far below;
The storm prevails, the rampart yields a way,
Bursts the wild cry of horror and dismay!
Hark! as the smouldering piles with thunder fall,
A thousand shrieks for hopeless mercy call!
Earth shook-red meteors flash'd along the sky,
And conscious Nature shudder'd at the cry!

Departed spirits of the mighty dead!
Ye that at Marathon and Leuctra bled!
Friends of the world! restore your swords to man,
Fight in his sacred cause, and lead the van!
Yet for Sarmatia's tears of blood atone,
And make her arm puissant as your own!
Oh! once again to Freedom's cause return

The patriot TELL-the BRUCE of BANNOCKBURN!

INVOCATION TO GRECIAN ENERGY.

GENIUS of ancient Greece! whose faithful steps,
Well pleas'd, I follow thro' the sacred paths
Of Nature and of Science;-Nurse divine
Of generous counsels and heroic deeds!
O let the breath of thy extended praise
Inspire my kindling bosom to the height
Of this untempted theme! Nor be my thoughts
Presumptuous counted, if, amid the calm
Which Hesper sheds along the vernal heaven,
I steal, impatient, from the sordid haunts
Of strife and low Ambition, and the gloom
Of vulgar Superstition, to attend,

With hymns, thy presence, in the sylvan shade
By their malignant footsteps ne'er profan❜d.
Descend, propitious, to my favor'd eye!
Such in thy mien-thy warm exalted air,
As when the Persian tyrant, foil'd, and stung
With shame and desperation, gnash'd his teeth
To see thee rend the pageants of his throne;
And, at the lightning of thy lifted spear,
Crouch'd like a slave.

Bring all thy martial spoils, Thy palms, thy laurels, thy triumphal songs;

Thy smiling band of arts; thy godlike sires
Of civil wisdom; thy heroic youth,

Warm from the schools of glory! Guide my way
Thro' fair Lyceum's walk, the olive shades

Of Academus,-and the sacred vale,

Haunted by steps divine! where, once, beneath That ever-living plantane's ample boughs, Ilissus, by Socratic sounds detain❜d,

On his neglected urn, attentive, lay;

While Boreas, lingering on the neighboring steep,
With beauteous Orithyea, his love tale,
In silent awe, suspended: there let me,
With blameless hand, from thy unenvious fields
Transplant some living blossoms, to adorn
My native clime; while far above the flight
Of fancy's plume aspiring, I unlock
The springs of ancient wisdom; while I join

Thy name thrice honor'd! with the immortal praise
Of nature; while to my compatriot youth

I point the high example of thy sons,
And tune to Attic themes the British lyre.

OBSTACLES TO THE PROGRESS OF KNOWLEDGE.

OUR first remark is, that there is great danger of resting satisfied with superficial knowledge. It is the popular impression, that the attainment of knowledge is an extremely easy matter, requiring hardly an effort of the mind, except the mere act of receiving what is offered to its grasp. So much has been said of bringing the great truths of science within the reach of the humblest aspirant, and of making them the common property and blessing of every, even the lowest class, that we begin to imagine the old fashioned hard study of our gigantic scholars, fit only for a cloistered devotee. We forget that the mind contains within itself the principles of its own development, and requires long and steady efforts of self-discipline to unfold in their beauty and proportion its mighty powers. That knowledge is little worth, in acquiring which the intellect is a mere passive recipient. To make it truly valuable the mind must act upon it with the concentrated energy of its various powers. It may be pleasant enough to dream an hour after dinner among the fantastic imaginings of a wandering fancy, or to doze over the last new novel or poem. It may be an agreeable pastime, and not altogether useless, to listen to a series of popular lectures. But, unless all this results in an increased excitement of the intellect to put forth its powers of action, and find out truth for itself, most of the benefit ends, with the pleasure, at the moment of enjoyment. Truth, knowledge, is too precious a boon to be had merely for the asking, and he who expects to win it on such easy terms, will find himself wofully disappointed. It was patient, unremitted thought, that gave Newton his immeasurable pre-eminence above the loftiest spirits of his time. It was untiring, resistless selfstudy that enabled Locke to thread his way though the otherwise inextricable mazes of metaphysical speculation. From the original principles of our nature, the conclusion is irresistibly certain, that no real knowledge, no true intellectual eminence, can be attained without hard labor. And happy

is it for us that such is our constitution. It gives security to virtue, and is the most unerring guide to the highest happiness earth has to bestow. Who would exchange the satisfaction derived from the consciousness of having won truth, by long, laborious, and faithful study, the pure and serene delight of gazing upon a beautiful prospect from an eminence he has reached by his own vigorous efforts, for the greatest conceivable mass of untoiled for knowledge, heaped upon the inert intellect, and smothering and deadening its noble faculties beneath the oppressive weight?

Another obstacle to the progress of knowledge, is the waste of time in disputing upon the utility, whether absolute or comparative, of certain kinds of information. We remark, first, that any kind of knowledge, however far removed from what is called, in the cant of the day, practically useful, is worthy to employ the labor of a rational being. The object of attaining knowledge is twofold. It promotes the physical happiness, and increases the conveniences and luxuries of the present life, as witnessed in the superiority of the civilized over the savage state; and it tends to elevate our moral and intellectual nature, as instanced in the superiority of the poor man of letters over the wealthy ignoramus. These generally, but not always, coincide. In training the mind in a way to act its part well here, and to prepare itself for a higher state of existence, regard must be paid to both these ends. Some kinds of knowledge tend immediately to the promotion of physical comfort, and remotely to intellectual elevation. That these are exceedingly important, we are far from denying. Every new application of scientific truth to the practical arts of life, we hail as a blessing to the whole family of man, and as entitling its author to a place among the benefactors of his age. But the danger is, lest we rest satisfied with the means and forget the end-lest we limit our aspirations to bodily comfort, leaving out of the question a matter of incomparably higher moment, the happiness of the mind. Wealth is desirable, not in itself-for in itself, a piece of gold is of less value than the same weight of iron; but because it is the means of procuring happiness-not the happiness of the body merely, except so far as that is subservient to the happiness of the soul, but the happiness arising from moral and intellectual dignity. Yet how many spend the precious hours of youth

and manhood to attain à mass of worldly treasure, to be brooded over in an ignorant and cheerless old age.

If, then, the ultimate aim of all knowledge is, or should be, moral and intellectual happiness, we must allow some importance to that knowledge which bears directly upon this kind of happiness; nay, we will go so far as to assert, that it ought to hold the highest place in the education of a rational beings. The development of the intellect, the cultivation of the taste, the refining and exalting of the fancy, the exciting an inextinguishable thirst to drink deeper and deeper at the fountains of truth-these are the objects of a truly elevated education. Whatever, in the world about us and the world within us, is presented to the cognizance of our minds, is worthy to be seriously embraced; for thus are we enabled to approach nearer to the source of all truth, the throne of the eternal. The vague use of the word practical has led to many absurd conclusions. We hear it applied to one kind of knowledge, and that too, not in reference to an end, but to a means, as if the knowledge, which we have just alluded to, were not equally, nay, more practical, in the high and true sense of that term, as contributing to the elevation of the mind.

In the exact proportion in which the mass of the people become intelligent, will the melancholy perversions of our moral powers be corrected; and in the same proportion that these obstacles to knowledge are removed, will the removal of future obstacles be facilitated. Knowledge alone can display to men the full extent of that liberty with which Christ hath made us free. Knowledge, alone, can teach men to distinguish between the ravings of self-conceited bigotry, and the true impulses of christian zeal; between the indiscriminate denunciations of vulgar fanaticism, and the earnest, yet calm and gentle admonitions of evangelical piety.

Our deep and anxious interest in the progress of knowledge, with which we believe the dearest hopes of humanity are indissolubly linked, has led us to point out what we conceive to be some of the most important obstacles in its way. The voice of history and of reason is with us, when we give to knowledge this pre-eminent importance. The political revolutions of the world, which stand out so glaringly from the pages of history, mournfully remind us of the fate, which has awaited nations as great, as powerful, as majestic, as our own beloved republic, and which may await her too, unless