bly surprised than at the first sight of the town and its
harbor."[13] He seems to have been contented here, and when his
companions went to Boston stayed at home, "preferring," as he wrote,
"quiet and solitude to the noise of a great town, notwithstanding all
the solicitations that have been used to draw us thither."[14]

The money which he had expected, especially from the ministry, failed,
and after waiting in vain expectation two years and a half, he returned
to England, leaving an infant son buried in the yard of Trinity Church,
and bestowing upon Yale College a library of eight hundred and eighty
volumes, as well as his estate in Rhode Island. During his residence at
Newport he had preached every Sunday, and was indefatigable in pastoral
duties, besides meditating, if not composing, "The Minute Philosopher,"
which was published shortly after his return.

He had not been forgotten at home during his absence; and shortly after
his return he became Bishop of Cloyne, in which place he was most
exemplary, devoting himself to his episcopal duties, to the education of
his children, and the pleasures of composition.

It was while occupied with his plan of a college, especially as a
nursery for the Colonial churches, shortly before sailing for America,
that the future seemed to be revealed to him, and he wrote the famous
poem, the only one to be found among his works, entitled, "Verses on the
Prospect of Planting Arts and Learning in America."[15] The date may be
fixed at 1726. Such a poem was an historic event. I give the first and
last stanzas.

"The Muse, disgusted at an age and clime
Barren of every glorious theme,
_In distant lands now waits a better_,
_Producing subjects worthy fame_.

* * * * *

"_Westward the course of empire takes its way_;
The first four acts already past,
A fifth shall close the drama with the day;
Time's noblest offspring is the last."

It is difficult to exaggerate the value of these verses, which have been
so often quoted as to become one of the commonplaces of literature and
politics. There is nothing from any oracle, there is very little from
any prophecy, which can compare with them. The biographer of Berkeley,
who wrote in the last century, was very cautious, when, after calling
them "a beautiful copy of verses," he says that "another age will,
perhaps, acknowledge the old conjunction of the prophetic char