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Born with a mind untaught to shrink or yield,
But, not alone in scenes where glory fir'd, He mov'd no less in civil walks admir’d! Though long a warrior, choice of human blood, As Brutus noble, and as Titus good! To all that form’d the hero of the age, He join’d the patriot and the peaceful sage, The statesman powerful, and the ruler just, No less illustrious than the chief august; And, to condense his characters in one, The godlike father of his country shone !
Such was the man! let distant ages know, For whom Columbia droops in weeds of woe ! Peerless in life! Ye wondering realıns attend ! His fame was brighten'd by his glorious end ! By pain unmov'd, magnanimous in death, He prov'd the hero with his latest breath! And shot eternal splendours through the gloom, That shrouds, in night, the confines of the tomb ! His worth, increasing with his reverend days, Had taught a nation virtue's radiant ways, Then, greatly yielding life, without a sigh, His last example taught them how to die !
Shade of immortal Warren hither bend! Montgomery, Mercer, Lawrence, Green, attend ! Mid files of angels, rang'd on either side, And forms angelic your celestial guide, Conduct, in triumph, to the climes above, The illustrious spirit of the chief you love !
Ye hostile chiefs on Europe's harrass'd shore, Who fiercely fan, with banners dipt in gore, The dreadful flaine of war! revert your eyes, Behold the death, Columbia's hero dies ! In life how mild, how firm, how just, how brave ! And lo! what glories issue from his grave ! What weeping millions o'er his ashes bend ! What bursts of woe his country's bosom rend ! What prayers, what eulogies ascend the sky, What deathless monuments in embryo lye!
Ye emperors, kings, and civil powers august! Whose bleeding armies agonize in dust, Whose rifled subjects raise a general groan, And cheerless realms mid deep oppression moan! Whose breasts a thirst for martial fame inspires; Whom love of wealth, of power, or conquest fires, Ambition drags, in triumph, at her car, While spurious glory dazzles from afar ! To your throng'd courts, my feeble voice I raise, To you address expostulary lays ! Scan well our hero's life, his death admire, And burn your bosoms with a kindred fire ! When dark oppression's clouds impend your land, Like him, the avenging thunders in your hand, Rush foremost, mid the fierce embattled hosts, And hurl the bold invader from your coasts! But when, the victory won, the conflict o'er, Mild mercy's accents whisper round your shore, Like him command the storm of war to cease, The love inspire and rear the arts of peace ! Pluck from your brows the laurel wreaths entwin'd, With radiant hand the blooming olive bind, And let your swords, the glory of the brave, : To ploughshares turn, and golden harvests wave! Like him, the fathers of your people prove, Like him, expire amid your people's love!
Come sages! come, and with the sorrowing tear, Bedew the pall that shrouds your idol's bier, Ye statesmen, chiefs, and faithful patriots rise, And sieze his mantle ere he reach the skies, Ye virgins fair, and modest matrons come, And strew, with lowrets fresh, your guardian's tomb, With pearly sorrows bathe the hallowed ground, And breathe the soul of plaintive music round !
Ye war-worn veterans, faithful to your chief, Torn by remorseless pangs of manly grief, Who, oft, the fierce conflicting ranks among, Where carnage, leagu'd with terror swept along, Crush'd the bold warrior, rent his bosom's core, And lapt, with demon thirst, the streaming gore, Where host with host, and man with man engag’d, And all the tumult of the battle rag'd, Have heard, with joy, his all-commanding word, And seen the beamy terrors of his sword, Have seen pale squadrons rally at his call, And hostile legions struck with deep appal, With slow and reverend step approach the grave,. That holds, enshrin'd, the relicts of the brave ! On bended knee, salute the sacred ground, And let your warlike honors burst around ! Then, germs of olive, oak, and laurel bring, And let them, mingling, o'er your hero spring !
Strike, nature ! strike, with force, thy mighty bell, And sound through all thy realms his funeral knell!
Here let a statesman, there a reverend sage,
Extract from a poem, sacred to the memory of general GEORGE
WASHINGTON. By RICHARD ALSOP. naapted to the 22 7 ob 1500
TXALTED chief_in thy superior inind
The glare of conquest, and of power the boast.
. Printed on Hudson Hoodrow
Dispels the wintry storin, the chilling rain,
Though shone thy life a model bright of praise,
Ill-fated country-lo, of aid bereft, Thy spear is broken and thy buckler cleft ! What arm shall now a firm support bestow, And shield thee harmless from the threat’ning foe ; Who, mid the storm, with fearless hand shall guide Thy course in safety o'er the troubled tide ? See faction lift on high his hateful head, O'er his dark brow unwonted smiles are spread, His lurid eye malignant triumph glares, And joy infernal every feature wears ! For now no more that piercing eye he fears, No more that voice, with terror thrill'd, he hears ; That eye, fan whose bright beam he shrunk dismay'd, And veil'd his treasons in the midnight shade ; That fateful voice which levell'd in the dust His plots nefarious, and his high-raiş'd trust; For, lo, in slumbers of the grave repos’d, Hush'd is that voice, that eye in darkness clos'd!