St. stephen’s cloistered hall was proud
In learning’s pomp that day,
For there a robed and stately crowd
Pressed on in long array.
A mariner with simple chart
Confronts that conclave high,
While strong ambition stirs his heart,
And burning thoughts of wonder part
From lip and sparkling eye.
What hath he said?...
Above them spread a stranger sky;
Around, the sterile plain;
The rock-bound coast rose frowning nigh;
Beyond,—the wrathful main:
Chill remnants of the wintry snow
Still choked the encumbered soil,
Yet forth those Pilgrim Fathers go
To mark their future toil.
’Mid yonder vale their corn must rise
In summer’s...
Toil on! toil on! ye ephemeral train,
Who build in the tossing and treacherous main;
Toil on! for the wisdom of man ye mock,
With your sand-based structure and domes of rock,
Your columns the fathomless fountains’ cave,
And your arches spring up to the crested wave;
Ye ’re a puny race thus to boldly rear
A fabric so vast in a realm so...
