USA > Connecticut > Hartford County > Glastonbury > Glastenbury for two hundred years: a centennial discourse, May 18th 1853 > Part 22
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Such a tree, planted in such a soil, has produced its natural and beautiful fruits. In addition to her amazing efforts in seeuring Independence from a foreign power, by the testimony of the greatest of Southern Statesman, him- selt a graduate of her venerable University, Connecticut gave to the nation its most admirable Constitution of government. In the simplicity and econo- my of its jurisprudence, in the universal diffusion of education, in the general comfort, and moral virtues of its population, and the priceless value of its mechanical inventions, it occupies the foremost rank, amid her sisters of the Confederated Union. If turning from the empire of matter, to that of mind, her intellectual lights are almost as countless as the stars. Here divines and philosophers have a world-wide renown, while her hands have plucked the fairest flowers of poesy, and chanted the sweetest inspirations of song.
Such in brief, are some of the reflections that rush upon the mind, while
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looking upon your beautiful landscape, which seems as if fashioned by the Almighty to be the fitting cradle of such a magnificent commonwealth. Many of you possess that most delightful of all pleasures to a heart of sensi- bility, the sweet enjoyment to sit under the shade of ancestral trees, and till the smiling surface of ancestral acres. You have the happiness to reside in the same lovely spot, where your fathers dwelt, and from which, they ascend- ed to their heavenly rest. God grant that their virtues may forever hallow the abode of their descendants, that every earthly blessing may distill like the dew of heaven upon it, till Time's last echo shall have ceased to sound, and the governments of the world, shall have given place to that of the King eternal. Standing upon the sacred precincts of such a time-honored home as this, with what gushing emotion may each of us exclaim with a warm fresh glow of heartfelt love,
Land of my birth, thou art a holy land, Strong in thy virtue may'st thou stand, As in thy soil and mountains thou art strong ; And as thy mountain echoes now prolong The cadence of thy waterfalls ;- forever be, The voice lifted up of Time's broad river, As on it rushes to the eternal sea, Sounding the praises of thy sons, and Thee.
ARGUMENT.
THE deeds and men -- who erst in days of yore When came the Pilgrims to our rock-bound shore, From whence we flow as from a fountain spring, Their toils, their trials, and their fame, I sing More wide in scope, more fresh, more fair and young Than Plato dreampt of, or than Homer sung.
ODE TO CONNECTICUT.
Written for the Centennial Celebration at Glastenbury, Ct., May 18th, 1853.
By JOHN R. PEASE, EsQ.
When Freedom, nursed 'mid storm and strife, And vengeful foes that sought her life, Was forced to fly from Europe's shore Where bigots leagned with despot Kings, 'Twas here her holy Ark she hore, And here she sped on eagle wings. Scarce had the May-Flower grazed the strand-
The storm-tost bark scarce felt the shock, When leapt the Pilgrim to the land, And built upon the granite rock. Those men-that rock-they were the seeds That ripened into mighty deeds ; Those germs of Empire yet to be, So faint-so dim-you scarce can trace, Now stretching wide from sea to sea, A hand-a breath-might then efface : Now grown so strong in power and pride, And mightier than the Ocean's tide, Deep fixed-secure the Temple rests- The sacred fire the vestal keeps, And glowing in each patriot breast The vigilance that never sleeps. Those beacon heights-that glorious bay,- The wave breaks on the silent shore, No freighted ships at anchor lay, No streams of Orient riches pour Where Commerce now has built her mart- The boundless sea her ample dower,- Where grandeur dwells 'mid gorgeous Art, And trade and traffic rule the hour. No chiming bells, nor echoing feet, Nor swelling domes their halls adorn- The Indian trail was then the street, Where the lone hunter winds his horn. But, destined to a glorious part In that great drama yet to come, They shall respond with throbbing heart
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When beats the Revolution's drum ; And Heroes, Sages, shall arise To draw the lightning from the skies. 'Twas here those early Pioneers Had built their homes and lit their fires, Environed ronnd with want and fears, Where now arise Tri Montane spires,
And towering shaft from that green mound That lifts its column to the sky- That spot of consecrated ground Where martyr patriots learned to die ; Where clustering round by sea and shore So thick memorials now are strown, The grateful heart its praise will pour
To think this glorious land our own. Here resting now for a brief space, Outworn with watching, want and woe, To find a fairer resting place A mighty summons bade them go : The red man came with truthful tale, And painted to their longing eyes The glowing beanties of that vale That seemed to them a Paradise. When in that dim and distant day They followed on their pasbless track, Hope was the star that led the way, There was no fear nor looking back. The forest rung with hymns of praise, Nor were there wanting sounds of glee To cheer them in their weary days. With songs of lighter Minstrelsy They sang old England's ballads o'er Of Chevy Chace and Robin Hood, And on this new and verdant shore They seemed more felt and understood ; For half the meaning of a song Lies in some sentimental nook ; And now their hearts were beating strong, And they were reading Nature's Book. They scaled the mountain's lofty height, And many a rugged hill they climb; They made their couch in darksome night Beneath those forests in their prime. And Woman's voice,-sweet as a lute Touched by some skilled but unseen hand- And her bright smile in language mute, Cheered with new life the touting band. Nor did their dauntless courage yield Whate'er opposed by flood or field :- For well had Hooker culled his flock- He had a keen and searching way --- They were the heart of Plymouth Rock, The flower of Mas achusetts Bay. The crystal waters of the spring That gushes forth in desert drear, And all around doth freshness fling, Like music to the traveller's ear, When fainting 'neath the noon-day's sun With half his journey yet undone ;- So they beheld that river broad Roll its bright wave the banks between, And, kneeling on the emerald sod,
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They hallowed there the glorious scene Here rolled the stream, majestic, slow, As if rejoicing in its toils,- There winding like a bended bow,- There like a serpent spread its coils. No forests dense to hide the scene, But wave and vale oft intervene, Aud as if art and nature strove To make a home for man to love ;
It seemed like Eden's fairest bowers,
And blushed with countless unknown flowers ;
No hand was there-no skill to dress-
The savage of the wilderness In Nature's rude untutored ways Had learned to plant the golden maize,
But else, through all the boundless plain, Here Nature held her ancient reign. Now hither came a chosen band, To dwell in this, the promised land ; Not with regret, remorse, or shame, But like a Spartan phalanx came. In every man burned wild desire, Their hearts, their souls were all on fire With some unseen but certain good That part was felt -- part understood. They came led on by lofty fate To plant the noblest-freest state That mortal man hath ever seen- The gem of all the old Thirteen ! And coming down to Charter days, They still held on their stubborn ways ; For they were men to give a tone, They had a standard of their own, They had no King to fetter thought, Their Constitution was self-wrought. They had command at Bunker Hill, They took old Ti by coup de main, They had a chance their blood to spill On Saratoga's crowning plain : Theirs was the flag the first unfurled- And spelling books for all the world !
The glory of old classic days When man was happy, brave and free, Ere he had learned the modern ways, Sprung from the " fierce Democracie." You may untomb all Egypt's Kings Whom now the drifting sands have hid, And you shall find them soulless things Although they built the Pyramid. You may dig up long buried thrones, And find the Persian's mouldering bones, The Assyrian and the Mede, Yet what avails if you unfold The buried hoards of Cræsus gold ;-- You find no worthy deed. For died with them all they possessed, The toiling millions they oppressed. Where is their glory now ? Where is their record bright of fame But sunk in never dying shame ? And, upturned by the plough,
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You find some erumbling brick or stone -- 'Tis all remains of Babylon. But glorious Greece, although have fled Her splendor and her mighty dead, Was nurtured in a different school -- 'Twas there the People held the rule ; And thoughts yet live and arts survive Enough to keep the world alive. So our good State, with all her claims To lofty deeds and shining names That fill her catalogue of fame, Has not so just, so proud a claim As this, that they were ever free And that they ever mean to be.
The red man's race has vanished now, And destiny her work has done ; The pale face drives his gleaming plough As fade the stars before the sun. The Podunk now has left the shore, No more the good Mohegan's found, The Pequot's fearful reign is o'er,
And peaceful smiles the " bloody ground."
The Narragansett is expelled From every hold and height he held,
While equal shines the fadeless sun On those that lost and those that won.
Ye who in the desert wild Rocked the helpless infant ehild, -- Who, when the storm-eloud fearful nigh
Muttered in the threatening sky,
Unbared your head and stalwart arm
To shield the nursling from all harm, -- How shall we the deed forget ? How shall we repay the debt But your example to impart
And write your names upon the heart ?
And ye who in more " Latter days" Awake the grateful theme of praise, How shall we well ascribe the fame That glows around a Trumbull's name ?-- And Allen in whom all powers combined- The Titan both in form and mind ; And Putnam, fearless, brave and true, And Ledyard, Knowlton, Wooster too, And Barlow with his epic page, And Wolcot wise, and Sherman sage, And He, while honor shall prevail, Immortal, unforgotten Hale! Sublime even from imputed shame -- A hero and a martyr name.
My native land, my native State ! Where'er thy sons and daughters be, They still revere thy name as great As when thou nursed their infancy. Save in extent thou art more great, Where Freedom blooms forever fair, My own, my gallant little State, Than many boundless Empires are. I would to ward the shock of fate Both peril life by land and sea,
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My own, my glorious, free-born State, Such is the love I bear to thee. Nor will I ever hold my breath Should slander dare asperse thy name, But follow up the lie to death, And brand the coward with his shame. For thee the Poet wreathes his lyre,
And finds new glories unrevealed ; For thee the Patriot wakes his fire When honor seeks the " tented field." For thee the Sage explores the mine Where knowledge deeply buried lies, So that the light shall brightly shine On dark and hidden mysteries. For lovelier scenes Heaven never gave, In Tempe's vale, by Arno's wave, Nor where the rich argosies ride On Sacramento's golden tide, Than eluster round thy sea and shore, Abiding there forevermore.
THE POOLS OF NIPSIC.
There's corn in the meadow, there's grain on the hills, Let the farmer rejoice as his garners he fills, That he dwells in his glory these fair seenes among, That are known unto story and wove into song.
Let the sweet pools of Nipsic like diamonds that glow, Spread greenness and beauty where the bright waters flow ; Here the Indian resorted his strength to restore- Be thy water still healing till time is no more.
Let hill-girdled Naubue as in her bright day, When the wild cat and wolf kept the hunter at bay ; Let her prowess inspire to more lofty rewards And light up the fire in the breast of her guards.
Nor Nayaug is wanting amid these old names, A tithe of the honor she merits and elaims, Tho' her tribes are now sleeping and her glory is fled And her daughters are weeping that their Chieftains are dead.
While the broad river flows in its glory along, Let us cherish these seenes both in story and song ; And the sweet pools of Nipsie like diamonds that glow Spread greenness and beauty where the bright waters flow.
GLASTENBURY.
In " old Connecticut" the better part, Glastenbury is nearest to the heart. Hail Glastenbury, with her hundred hills !
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Her verdant pastures and her flowing rills- Her flowery meadows and her rural shades- Her gallant yeomen and her beauteous maids. Hail glorious.clime ! fair land of Freedom hail ! May thy firm landmarks never fade or fail. Hail rugged nurse, to win whose hard-won spoil The brain must ponder and the hand must toil. We would not roam where wealth is lightly won, Nor change our skies for a more genial sun ; We would not seek for a more fertile soil Nor go where millions unrequited toil But here abide, where on hill, plain and glen, That show the skill and labor of her men, The spire and tower rising beside the road, Invite to worship -- point the way to God ; And where the school-house yet remains our pride -- Stands like a light-house on the mountain's side -- From whence goes forth a bright and chosen band To scatter seience widely through the land.
Though other lands their richer fields may boast Than glad the culture of our roek-bound coast, We envy not, our thoughts, our actions free, We reap our harvests from the boundless sea ? Though broader streams whose virgin soil ean yield The rich productions of the cotton field, For these we sigh not, when summer hours adorn Our hills and valleys with their stately corn. Though lovelier flowers in sunnier lands may twine, And riper clusters bend the loaded vine, Though there be sands filled with auriferous ore -- Australian Isles, -- and California's shore, Not these we claim,-meanwhile our rugged soil Shall yield its harvests to the hand of toil ; Nor on luxurious, pampering dainties fed, We grow more robust on our Indian bread ; And though our elime no spice or silk ean show Yet 'tis the land where milk and honey flow. Our own, our good land, that gave us birth, The greenest -- fairest -- dearest of the earth. For this have good men toiled and patriots bled, For this have sworn the living and the dead. Here shall no sect, no ereed, no party-sway Dim the proud glories of young Freedom's day, Here shall the Truth with brightening step advance, And Science reason with a Prophet's glance. We would not boast, in Pharisaic tone, Of vested virtues which are ours alone Enough for us, what Liberty instills, -- Our Pilgrim lineage, and our granite hills.
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In the midst of the festivities on the preceding occasion, the following vote was proposed and carried by acclamation :
Voted unanimously, That a copy of the Historical Dis- course, this day delivered before us by the Rev. Dr. Chapin, be presented by the citizens of Glastenbury, Connecticut, U. S. A., to the citizens of Glastonbury, Eng., as soon as published.
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MEANING OF ABBREVIATIONS IN THE NOTES TO THIS VOLUME.
ALL., ALLEN. Allen's Biographical Dictionary.
A. Q. R., AM. Q. R. American Quarterly Register.
B. H. C. C. Barber's Historical Collections of Connecticut.
BAC. HIST. DIsc. Rev. Dr. Bacon's History of First Church, New Haven.
BARR. Dr. Barrant, in his various Indian publications.
CAULK. Miss Caulkins' History of New London.
CONN. EVANG. MAG. The Connecticut Evangelical Magazine.
CONN. S. P., T. & L. Connecticut State Papers, Towns and Lands.
CONN. S. P., P. C. Connecticut State Papers, Private Controversies.
CONN. S. P., Ecc. Connecticut State Papers, Ecclesiastical matters.
Cor. Rev. J. Cotton, Jr., vocabulary of the Indian Language.
DEF., D. I. Deforest's Indians of Connecticut.
ELL. Elliot's Indian Grammar.
GAL. Gallatin's Indian Tribes of North America.
GEN. REG. Genealogical Register.
G. L. R. Glastenbury Land Records.
G. T. V. Glastenbury Town Votes.
GOOD. F. G. Goodwin's Genealogy of the Foote Family.
H. P. Hinman's Puritans, 2d work.
H. P. S. Hinman's Puritan Settlers, 1st work.
I. P. M. Barratt's Indian Proprietors of Mattabeseck.
LAMB. Lambert's History of New Haven Colony.
MATH. MAG. Cotton Mather's Magnalia, or Wonder-workings in New En- gland.
M. R. I. Morse's Report on the Indians in 1824.
PER. GEO. REP. Percival's Geological Report of Connecticut.
POR. HART. Porter's Historical Notices of Hartford.
R. W. Roger Williams' Key to the Indian Languages.
T. C. R. Trumbull's Colonial Records.
TRUMB. H. C. Trumbull's History of Connecticut.
T. L. I. Thompson's History of Long Island.
WINTHROP. Winthrop's Journal by Savage.
W. R. Wethersfield Records.
W. T. V. Wethersfield Town Votes.
ERRATA.
The distance of the author from the press, the impossibility of his seeing the revised proof, together with his sickness during a part of the time it was going through the press, has prevented him from detecting and correcting all the errors. The following have been noticed : others may possibly occur.
P. 51, 1. 26 from top, p. 82, 1. 4 from bottom, read William, for Samuel Miller. P. 180, 1. 16 from top, for Mary North, ( Wid.,) read Lucy Ann North, ( Wid.) P. 213, 1. 6, from top, for Brace, Jonathan K., read Thomas K.
P. 213, 1. 13 from top, for Brainard, Edwin S., read Edwin W.
P. 214, 1. 10 from bottom, for Hale, W. Elias, read Ehas W.
P. 223, 1. 22 from top, for Edwin Hubbard, read Edward Hubbard.
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