at which four young Gentlemen, who had before been graduated at the College at Cambridge, and one more, who had a private Education, received the Degrees of Master of Arts. This and several Commencements following were held privately in the House of the Rev. Mr. Buckingham, because the Trustees by a preceding Act, had forbid all publick Commencements; to avoid the Charge and other Inconveniencies attending them.

...

The Trustees and the Colony in general were from the Beginning, not very well agreed in their Sentiments about the Place where to fix the College; and most Men's Sentiments were influenced by their Situation; and they generally chose that Place which would best accommodate themselves. Three or four Places were generally discoursed upon, viz. Saybrook, Hew-Haven, and Hartford or Weathersfield. The Scholars were also somewhat uneasy at their Situation, they thought that Saybrook was not compact enough for their Accommodation, since many of them were obliged to reside above a Mile from the Place of publick Exercises, and they were not pleased with their Instruction and Government; there being no resident Rector, and the Tutors sometimes very young.

The Collegiate School being in this broken and tottering State, the People in several Parts of the Country begun to Subscribe large Sums for Building the College, to induce the Trustees to set it where it would best accommodate them. About £. 700 Sterling was subscribed for NewHaven; and tis said that about £. 500 Sterling was subscribed for Saybrook; and a considerable Sum for Hartford or Weathersfield.

The Trustees met at the Commencement at Saybrook, September 12, 1716, and entered upon the Consideration of the State and Place of the Collegiate School, but not being perfectly agreed they adjourned to NewHaven, to meet on the 17th Day of October following . . .

And Voted, that considering the Difficulties of continuing the Collegiate School at Saybrook, and that New-Haven is a very convenient Place for it, for which the most liberal Donations are given, the Trustees agree to remove the said School from Saybrook to New-Haven, and it is now settled at New-Haven accordingly.' . .

The Reason assigned by the Trustees in their Votes (and other Papers) for settling the College at New-Haven, were these; the Difficulty of keeping it at Saybrook, which arose partly from the Uneasiness of the Scholars, partly from the continual Endeavours of some to carry it to Hartford, which they supposed to be at too great a Distance from the Sea, and would no ways accommodate the Western Colonies. That

S

they look'd upon New-Haven to be in itself the most convenient Place, on the Account of the commodiousness of its Situation, the agreableness of the Air and Soil, and the Cheapness of Commodities; and that very large Donations had been made towards the Building an House there, without which they had not sufficient to defray the Charge.

The Major Part of the General Assembly, being desirous to strengthen the Hands of the Trustees in the present Difficulties, past the following Vote, in the same Session, viz. 'That under the present Circumstances of the Affairs of the Collegiate School, the Rev. Trustees be advised to proceed in that Affair; and to finish the House they have built in NewHaven, for the Entertainment of the Scholars belonging to the Collegiate School.'

Thomas Clap, The Annals or History of Yale-College (New Haven, 1766), 2-22 passim.

91. "A poetical Lamentation, occasioned by the Death of His late Majesty King George the First (1727)

BY REVEREND MATHER BYLES

This poem illustrates at once the poetical taste of the time and the undiscriminating loyalty of the colonists. Byles was a minister in Boston; he was renowned as a wit, and, though a known Tory, was permitted to remain in that town throughout the Revolution.-Bibliography: Winsor, Narrative and Critical History, V, 128130; Tyler, American Literature, II, 192-198.

[OW, O ye nine! if all your pow'rs can paint

The scenes of woe which wake this loud complaint,

Breath from my muse such soft and solemn verse,
As suits to strew my matchless Sov'reign's hearse;
And let my grief in mournful musick glide
To Albion's shores, and join the gen'ral tide.

While in this talk I'd try the tenderest skill,
Beneath the subject sinks my quiv'ring quill,
Restless, my muse her awful theme surveys,
While wounded passions plead for present ease,
My grief grows wild, and strugling sorrows throng
To break in trembling accents from my tongue.

Shall unrelenting rocks forbear to bleed,

While I proclaim the great AUGUSTUS dead!
AUGUSTUS-

ah!

my muse, I feel the sound

Rush thro' my soul, and all its pow'rs confound;
Swift tow'rds my heart unusual horror climbs,
And strange convulsions seize my shudd'ring limbs;
In my cold veins the crimson scarcely flows,
My slack'ning nerves their natʼral aids refuse,
From aking eyes the briny sorrow breaks,
And liquid pearl, rolls down my faded cheeks,
The ling'ring remnant of my life's opprest,
And death-like damps bedew my lab'ring breast.

Had I the royal prophet's tuneful strain
When Israel's breathless chiefs had ting'd the plain;
Would but Apollo's genial touch inspire
Such sounds as breathe from

* warbling lyre;

Then, might my notes in melting measures flow,
And make all nature wear the signs of woe.
Content, my muse must mourn with humbler strings,
While GEORGE's death, and Albion's loss she sings.

Long had the fields resign'd their smiling dress,
And herds rov'd round for food in dumb distress,
When famish'd hills, in russet robes array'd,
Seem'd to presage some dire event decreed:
While fainting nature felt such ardent fire,
As if 'twas with this fever to expire;
Then from the King of kings, a message flies,
To call his great vicegerent to the skies:

An hasty summons snatch'd our Sov'reign's breath,
His life is set, his glory dim'd with death. -
Let ev'ry gem which studs the British crown,
Look pale and wan, since Albion's light is down:
No more you'll share its rays, nor mingling shed
Your trembling splendors round his sacred head.
No more the throne shall show that awful face,
Where majesty was mix'd with mildest grace:
Nor hostile realms revere their conqu'rour king,
Nor nations shroud beneath his shelt'ring wing.

That wond'rous form, which once could kingdoms sway,
Is now the grizly tyrant's helpless prey.

Come, hoary registers of ancient times,
Whose vital tide declines your wither'd Limbs;
Babes in the dawn of life, and you whose veins,
The dancing fire of ripen'd youth contains;
With all Parnassus, bring your last perfume,
With bosoms bare, and mingled mournings come,

And spread in one wide ruin round your Sov'reign's tomb.
But cease, my muse, or weep in gentler streams,
Behind this shady scene some comfort gleams;
Lift from the dismal gloom thy aking eyes:
Refreshment springs from whence thy sorrows rise.

When at the hour of Brunswick's swift discharge,
To heav'n seraphick guardians guide their charge;
Rapid, the news thro' trembling kingdoms runs,
And all the skies are peirc'd with piteous groans;
Then, as this light the dark'ned empire leaves,
Then, wondrous WALES the sinking scepter saves:
Then, with her sparkling issue, comes his QUEEN,
Like night's fair empress midst her starry train ;
With cypress crown'd, they guild th' imperial seat,
And prop, tho' weak with woe, the tott'ring state;
While intermingling joys, and grief impress
Their different dies, in ev'ry subjects face.
Albion reviv'd, yet longs with eager eye
To see their Sovereigns shine in cloudless majesty.
So when in deep eclipse, the rising sun,
Streaks with a dusky light his orient throne:
With sully'd robes he mounts th' ætherial field,
And rules the day, with Cynthia's sable veil'd.
Languid, and faint, his muffled front appears,
While earth and air a semblant horror wears.
'Till rapid time unfolds his fulgid face,

And spreads his golden glories quick'ning rays.

[Mather Byles], A Collection of Poems (no title-page), 19–24 passim.

}

92. "Some Account of the Earthquake that shook New-England" (1727)

BY REVEREND COTTON MATHER

Cotton Mather, most voluminous of colonial writers, was for many years minister at the North Church in Boston. Bibliography: Barrett Wendell, Cotton Mather; Tyler, American Literature, II, 73-89. See also Contemporaries, I, No. 148. — For other extracts on New England life, see Contemporaries, Ï, ch. xxi.

THE

HE Night that followed the Twenty ninth of October [1727.] was Night whereto NEW-ENGLAND had never in the Memory of Man, seen the like before. The Air never more Calm, the Sky never more Fair; every thing in all imaginable Tranquillity: But about a quarter of an Hour before Eleven, there was heard in BOSTON, from one end of the Town to the other, an horrid rumbling like the Noise of many Coaches together, driving on the paved Stones with the utmost Rapidity. But it was attended with a most awful Trembling of the Earth, which did heave and shake so as to Rocque the Houses, and cause here and there the falling of some smaller Things, both within Doors and without. It cannot be imagined, but that it gave an uncommon Concern unto all the Inhabitants, and even a degree of Consternation, unto very many of them. This first Shock, which was the most Violent, was followed with several others, and some Repetition of the Noise, at sundry times, pretty distant from one another. The Number of them is not entirely agreed; but at least Four or Five are allow'd for; The last of which was between Five and Six of the Clock in the Morning.

How far this Earthquake extended thro' the Countrey, we are not yet informed; But that it extended Scores of Miles, we have already a certain Information. And what added unto the Terrors of it, were the terrible Flames and Lights, in the Atmosphere, which accompanied it. The Vessels on the Coast were also made sensible of it, by a shivering that siezed on them.

When the greatly affected People, had a little Opportunity to look about them in the Morning, the Pastors of the Old North-Church, directed the Bells to be rung, that such of the People as could and would, might assemble immediately unto some seasonable Exercises of Religion. The Pastors of the New joined with them in sending up unto Heaven, the Supplications which the solemn Occasion called for. And