Or if you rather choose the rural shade,
And find a fane in every sacred grove;
There let the shepherd's flute, the virgin's lay,
The prompting seraph, and the poet's lyre,
Still sing the GOD OF SEASONS, as they roll'—
For me, when I forget the darling theme,
Whether the blossom blows, the summer-ray
Russets the plain, inspiring Autumn gleams;
Or Winter rises in the blackening east;
Be my tongue mute, may fancy paint no more,
And, dead to joy, forget my heart to beat!

Should fate command me to the farthest verge
Of the green earth, to distant barbarous climes,
Rivers unknown to song; where first the sun
Gilds Indian mountains, or his setting beam
Flames on the Atlantic isles; 'tis nought to me:
Since God is ever present, ever felt,

In the void waste as in the city full;

And where he vital breathes there must be joy.
When even at last the solemn hour shall come,
And wing my mystic flight to future worlds,
I cheerful will obey; there, with new powers,
Will rising wonders sing: I cannot go
Where Universal Love not smiles around,
Sustaining all yon orbs, and all their suns;
From seeming Evil still educing Good,
And better thence again, and better still,
In infinite progression. But I lose
Myself in HIM, in Light ineffable!

Come, then, expressive silence, muse His praise.

LIBERTY OF THE PRESS.

In looking back a few centuries on the progress which has been made in almost every department of knowledge, we cannot but perceive how much of it has been effected by the art of printing. This great invention, by multiplying copies of works with an almost magic facility, and at an expense, which, when compared with the prices paid in former times for manuscripts, appears as nothing, has not only increased to an incalculable degree the number of professed students and lovers of literature, but has communicated the benefits

of instruction to all classes and conditions of men. It has led forth learning from the ancient places of her seclusion, the academy, the cloister, and the dark grove, and has introduced her to the gay, the busy, and the poor; so that she now walks abroad in the streets and the highways, and over the fields, and converses freely with men in crowded marts, in splendid courts, in hostile camps, and by the cheerful fireside. Books are no longer the exclusive luxuries of the wealthy; they are no longer only to be met with chained to the dusty shelves of a monastic library, or clasped and hung to the girdles of churchmen; they lie on cottage windowseats, they are in the cabins of our ships, and in the tents of our soldiery, they are the familiar companions of the female sex, and they are scattered among the play things of children. Wisdom is no longer the torch of the Grecian game, passed down from separate hand to hand; it may rather be compared to the sacred fire, kindled, as travellers tell us, on the birth day of our Savior in the Church of the Sepulchre at Jerusalem, which is no sooner exposed to view, than the whole mass of devotees rush on to illumine their tapers at its flame, and in an instant a thousand lights are glancing through the temple.

The press, has, in short, sent forth such vast quantities of writings into the world, that it may be doubted whether any cause of destruction could obliterate these labors of the mind, which would not also exterminate the human race. Towards the accomplishment of such an object, a second Omar could effect nothing.

Its power is of course immense, both for good and for evil. It disseminates opinions of all kinds on every subject, and administers poison, as well as healthy nutriment. It is not surprising, therefore, that attempts should often have been made to restrain its liberty, and limit its power, not only by those interested persons who have feared that it would deprive them of unrighteous authority, but by the sincerely virtuous who have dreaded its corrupting effects on the morals of society.

The Church of Rome began very early to prohibit the reading of certain books, and about the year 1550, published a list of them, called an Index Expergatorius, which has since been enlarged as occasions required. Even in protestant countries, overseers have been appointed by law, to peruse all writings intended for the public, and with authority to

license or suppress, as they should think proper. Such a body of licensers existed, and exercised their powers in England, till a little more than a century ago, when it was abolished by act of parliament. At present, although any person in that kingdom may print what he pleases, he is liable to punishment if the book is found to contain sentiments which the law pronounces to be pernicious.

I shall offer, as briefly as possible, a few considerations, to show that no restraint whatever, should be imposed on the freedom of the press, but that it should be left unquestioned and entire.

With regard to those countries in which it has been shackled the most, it will be necessary to say but a few words. Their example is proof sufficient, that the effect of literary despotism is ignorance and degradation. Their inhabitants are sunk in deep superstition; and when they talk of liberty, they hardly understand the meaning of the word. The illiterate believe any thing and every thing; a great part of the higher orders believe nothing, and the remainder do not know what to believe. All writings of a bold and manly character are withheld from the people; and it has been said that there is hardly a good work of morality or devotion, which has not been prohibited by the Roman Index.

Nor has the licensing system, as it has been pursued in more free and enlightened parts of the world, any thing to recommend it. The licensers are men, with the prejudices, interests and passions of men, and will never be wholly impartial in their judgment. They may be very wise men, and very good men, but will not certainly be infallible. They will have their systems and their theories, on government and morals and religion, and will hardly grant an imprimatur to that author who writes against their party, or their church. And yet the author may be right, and they themselves wrong. They will be continually committing mistakes, and some of their mistakes will be of vital importance. With the best intentions possible, they may and must often misconceive the forms of fundamental truth. "If it come to prohibiting,' says that great man, one only of whose praises it is that he wrote Paradise Lost, 'If it come to prohibiting, there is not aught more likely to be prohibited than truth itself; whose first appearance to our eyes, bleared and dimmed with prejudice and custom, is more unsightly and unplausible than many errors; even as the person is of many a great man slight and

contemptible to see to.' And when truth is acknowledged and permitted to pass, is it not humbled and disgraced by the permission? Can it not walk forth freely without asking leave, and going in leading strings, and wearing a mark and a collar, like a slave or a dog?

And now let us consider the mildest restraint which has been attempted on the liberty of the press, by punishing the authors or venders of pernicious books, and ask what good it has done? Let us reflect a little on some characteristics of human nature, and we shall see what harm it will do. Will it not be the invariable consequence of inflicting punishment on the publishers of bad books, that general attention will be excited to those books, and an uncommon desire be entertained to purchase and read them? And will not human ingenuity find out ways enough, in spite of all obstacles, to print and to sell them? And when they are read under these excitements, will not the impression which they make on the mind be far greater than in ordinary cases, and will not their mischievous effects be doubled? There is no doubt of it. The sympathy and curiosity produced by a judicial condemnation, will both increase the numbers of the obnoxious work, and induce people to read with interest what they would otherwise have soon thrown by in weariness or disgust.

If it be inquired, how is the evil to be counteracted? I answer, by the remedies of truth, reason, and argument. If the pernicious treatise be popular, let a popular treatise oppose it; if it pretend to be learned, let learning be enlisted on the other side. Is error so subtle that it cannot be refuted? Is virtue so foolish or so indolent, that she cannot or will not defend herself and her votaries? Is licentiousness so bold and successful that she cannot be shamed? Then shame on the virtuous, and shame on the pious, and shame on the learned; if their principles, and their zeal, and their education, and their scholarship, amount to nothing more than this, why, shame on it all! But it is not so; there are able champions in the cause of faith and righteousness, and they have conquered, and they will go on to conquer, and with them will fight all the honorable feelings, and high aspirations, and holy thoughts of man, all the pure and endearing relations of society and of home, and order, justice, decency, hope and gratitude.

With regard to speculative inquiries, there are very few

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which I would even attempt to discourage by angry disapprobation. Many a truth do we discover, only by the examination of many falsehoods. To prove that one system is tenable, it is often necessary to show that others which have been offered are groundless; just as some theorems of Euclid are established, by reducing to an absurdity every position which contradicts them. The seeker after truth, like the hero of a fairy tale, is often obliged to pass through successive scenes of deception, and encounter numerous shadowy dangers and temptations, before he can arrive at the inner apartment of the castle, and dissolve the enchantment.

There are few theories, too, which do not contain much that is profitable to be known; for they who have the ingenuity to advance them, will generally say something useful, if it be only for their own refuting. In their very wanderings they will point out beacons and landmarks, which will denote with increased accuracy the pleasant country and the safe road. 'If the men be erroneous who appear to be the leading schismatics,' says Milton again, 'what withholds us but our sloth, our self will, and distrust in the right cause that we do not give them gentle meetings and gentle dismissions; that we debate not and examine the matter thoroughly, with liberal and frequent audience; if not for their sakes, yet for your own? Seeing no man who hath tasted learning but will confess the many ways of profiting by those, who not contented with stale receipts, are able to manage and set forth new positions to the world. And were they but as the dust and cinders of our feet, so long as in that notion they may yet serve to polish and brighten the armory of truth, even for that respect they were not utterly to be cast away.'

Let then opinion meet opinion, on all grounds of debate and controversy. Let system combat system, and theory wrestle with theory. Let the press work on with all its activity; throw not over it a single fetter. Who says that truth is powerless, and friendless, and cannot prevail? She must prevail. Away with your fears of heresy and heretics, and your grave talk about latitudinarianism, and disorganizing tenets, and the destruction of faith, and the unhinging of society! Such alarms indicate but a slight estimation of that which should be most valued, and but a poor and doubtful reliance on that which should be most firmly trusted inTRUTH. Truth will prevail at last-or there is no such thing as truth: