194 Mitchell 



Of every thought to-night the welcome guest. 

 Lo at his name there rise securely great 

 The strong yore fathers of our infant state, 

 Whose gage of duty boldly challenged fate. 

 What happy stars shone radiant on the birth 

 Of that ripe harvest of our virgin earth, 

 Men of a day when Freedom asked of Fame 

 Heroic souls, — and large the answer came! 

 Two hundred busy years have passed away 

 Since in his humble home an infant lay: 

 Beside his cradle passed the mistress Fates 

 On whose decree the hidden future waits. 

 No frowning shapes foretold disastrous hours, — • 

 Fair were the forms that promised fruit and flowers. 

 There tranquil Science to the infant brought 

 The prescient insight of illumined thought. 

 Saw with proud eyes the answering flame of heaven 

 Unto the questioning hand of genius given. 

 And felt with him the joy of those who find 

 The hidden secrets of the eternal mind. 

 The Muse of Letters whispered in his ear 

 " Thou shalt be mine, and lo, I give thee here 

 The wise of elder days thy friends to be 

 As men unborn shall turn for friend to thee; 

 Thou shalt be mine," she cried, and gave the boy 

 The unfailing magic of her matchless joy, 



