The Middlebury register. [volume] (Middlebury, Vt.) 1850-1882, 1851-08-06

ter day, and, at last, hour after hour.
roll heavily. The last night is GONG
the moon has disappeared from his eagle
gaze, in her approach to the sun, and
the dawn Of the eventful day breaks in
beauty on the slumbering world.
This daring man, stern in his faith,
climbs alone TO his rocky home, and
greets the sun, as he rises and mounts
the heavens, scattering brightness and
glory in his path. Beneath him is spread
out the populous city, already teeming
with life and activity. The busy morn
ing hum rises Oh the still air, and reach.
es the watching plac of the solitary as
tronomer. The thousands below him,
unconscious Of his intense anxiety, joy-
ously pursue their rounds of business,
their cycles Of amusement. The sun
slowly climbs the heavens, round and
bright, and full-orbed. The lone ten,
ant Of the mountain-top almost begins
TO waver in the stcrnness of his faith,
as the morning hours roll away. But
the time Of his triumph, long delayed,
at length begins to dawn-a pale aud
slckly hue creeps over the face of ma
ture. The sun has reached his highest
point, but his splendor is dimmed-his
light is feeble. At last it comes Black
ness is eating away his round disc--on>
ward, with slow but steady pace the dark
veil moves, 5lacker than a thousand
nights--the gloom deepens-,he ghastly
hue Of death covers the universe-ihe
last ray has gone, and horror regn.
A wall Of terror fills the murky air
the clangor oi brazen trumpets resounds
an agony Of despair dashes the sirick-
en- millions to the ground, while that
lone man, erect on his rocky summit,
with arms oulstretched to heaven, pours
forth the grateful gushings of his heart
TO God, who had crowned his efforts
with triumphant victory.
Search the records of our race, and
point me, if you can, to scene more
grand, more beautiful. 1t is, to me, the
proudest victory that genius ever won.
1t was the conquering of Nature, Of Ig-
norance, Of Superstition, Of Terror, all
at single blow. and that blow struck
by single man. And now. do you de-
mand the name Of this wonderful man
Alas what lesson Of the instability
Of earthly fame are we taught in this
simple recital. lie who had raised him
self immeasurably above his race-who
must have been regarded by his fellows
as litsle less than god, VINO mad IN
scrbed his fame on the very heavens,
and had written il in the sun, with a
"pen Of iron, and the point OF dia-
mond even this one has perished
from the earth-name, age, country, all
are swept into oblivion; but the proud
achievement stands. The monument
reared to his honor stands and although
the touch Of Time has effaced the let
tering of his name, it is powerless. and
cannot destroy the fruits Of his victory.
A thousand years roll by; the astron- |
omer stands on the watch tower Of Bah
ylon, and writes for posteriiy the records
of an eclipse this record escapes des-
truct'on, and is safely waited down the
stream of time. A thousand years roll
away; the old astronomer, surrounded
by the fierce but wondering Arab, again
writes and marks the day which witness
ses the suns decay. A thousand years
roll heavily away once more the as
tronomer writes, from amidst the gay
lhrong that crowds the capital Of Eu.
rope. Record is compared with record,
date with date, revolution with revolu-
tion, the past ana present together-an-
other struggle commences - another
triumph is won. Little did The Babylo>
nian dream that he was observing for
one who. after lapse OF three thousand
years, should rest upon this very record
the successful resolution of one Of Ma.
iure's darkest mysteries.