And thy own Bowditch is not far away ; 



For who shall say that, ere this present hour, 



Thou hast not met in converse face to face 



A Newton, Leibnitz, Bacon, a Laplace ; 



And with them seated on some height sublime, 



That overlooks the wide expanse of worlds, 



Hast talked of laws of motion yet unknown 



In mortal depths of mathematic lore ; 



And with thy vision that can far outreach 



The telescopic gaze with which thy eye 



On earth could penetrate the realms of space, 



Canst planetary globes behold unseen by man, 



And trace the blazing comet as it sweeps 



Its mighty circuit of a thousand years? 



These were thy hopes expressed when yet on earth, 



While bright reality stood beckoning on 



With guiding hand, that now holds fast thy own. 



Around thee no materialistic chain 



Thy demonstrative science ever threw 



To hold in doubt a life beyond the grave, 



And dwarf the infinite to narrow sense, 



That claims where nought is seen there nought can be. 



Had thy bold genius lacked the potent spring 



Coiled by immortal hope's inspiring power, 



Unsinewed, thou hadst never climbed so high, 



And left thy mark emblazoned to the world. 



The planets in their orbits long had moved 

 By laws that never were revealed to man, 

 Till minds like thine sought out the hidden key 

 Which laid them open to the common eye. 

 Not all the arts of ancient Greece and Rome, 

 Nor age mediaeval' s theologic mist, 

 Could tell that force centrifugal was bent 

 By force c'entripetal's well-balanced curve, 

 To guide earth's motion in its annual round. 

 Or, if this truth was faintly shadowed forth 

 By minds heretical in cells obscure, 

 It found no credence in the schools long sunk 

 In shades of dark ecclesiastic night. 



