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 I'rFi^ 
 
Je?¥erson D 
 
 ersorp uavis. 
 
 Of oue resplendent ship that dared 
 Adventurous the storm-racked wave, 
 Of oue great pilot grand and brave, 
 
 Who strove till hope despaired, 
 
 And darkness shrouded all the sea, 
 And wreck and ruin round him raved, 
 Strove nobly, and all fortunes braved 
 
 To bring her into lee. 
 
 Of such inspired would I dare 
 To wake my harp, and daring sing, 
 And hope and pride's -defiance fling 
 
 High as a clarion's blare. 
 
 To touch the highest flight of song 
 Were not too high to grace my theme ; 
 Ennobling inspiration's dream. 
 
 My wing thus bold and strong.. 
 
 My spirit quick ed with the desire 
 
 That nerved Jove's bird to his high flight. 
 Soaring the imperial height 
 
 That Gods wont to aspire. 
 
 Not he who sung Aeneas' fate, 
 And touched harmonious his shell, 
 Aspiring in his high strains to tell 
 
 The rise of Roman state. 
 
 Nor yet Pharsalia's singer knew, 
 Nor Salem's bard a nobler theme, 
 Though deep they from the epic stream 
 
 Their inspirations drew — 
 
 Than mine, a nation born in flame, 
 And swathed in blood and glory's glare ; 
 Yet fell in honor's great despair. 
 
 Crushed to unrighteous shame, 
 
(2) 
 
 Crushed by o'er numbers, whose huge weight, 
 (Not Valor's knightly sword and spear,) 
 As a vast mountain wave's career. 
 
 Reversed an empire's fate. 
 
 And Faction won where Valor lost, 
 And Hope died on his crimson shield, 
 And Honor's cause was forced tp yield 
 
 At such tremenduous cost ! 
 
 So Hasting s groaned when Harold fell 
 
 Before the wrong invasion dealt. 
 
 And native cause and honor felt 
 The ruin, heard the knell 
 
 Ambition struck with thunder tone, 
 
 And wrong and might ramped on the field, 
 In mire-treading. the patriot's sheld, 
 
 The patriot overthrown ! 
 
 'Of such great subject would I sing, 
 
 A mighty and illustrious theme ; 
 
 More worthy the transcendent dream 
 Of Gracia's epic king. 
 
 :But my w^eak arm shall dare the reach. 
 
 Though reaching touch, and touching fail; 
 
 Nor may my wistful soul prevail 
 In its bar limit speech 
 To give expression to the height 
 
 And splendor of the scene whose scope. 
 
 By evil fate warped to its slope. 
 Sank back in ruin's night. 
 
 O, Spirit thou, whose breath divine 
 Kindles the sacred altar flame, 
 Gilding the poet's wreath of fame, 
 
 Inspire this lay of mine, 
 
 That I may sing the bravest song 
 
 That ever in this hesper spehre 
 
 Awoke proud echoes to career 
 Our native vales along. 
 
(3) 
 
 Not for my pride and for my fame, 
 But in the faith that never dies , 
 Fixed as the tint of Southland skies, 
 
 To grace our Chieftan's name. 
 
 Two ships upon the boisterous seas, 
 Bold in the old explosing days, 
 With prows toward the hesper ra3'S, 
 
 Their sails set to the breeze. 
 
 Both from the same old noble land. 
 The grand old Island of our race , 
 The home of freedom's noblest grace. 
 
 And aspirations grand. 
 
 The one dark keeled and sombre hued, 
 Far to the northward made its trend. 
 Where arctic gales with summer blend, 
 
 A land with frost imbued. 
 
 A restless crew, fanatic bred, 
 
 Of narrow mind and hooded view, 
 Sailed in this ship, ascetic crew, 
 
 Bigot and narrow read. 
 
 The propagandists of a lore 
 
 No broader than the limit reach 
 Of the sectary's short arm stretch, 
 
 So much, nor less, nor more. 
 
 Too pure and holy to be good. 
 
 Except to such of their own creed , 
 On all beyond their limit screed, 
 
 They sneered in bigot mood. 
 
 On Plymouth's rock they took their stand, 
 And from that ill propitious hour, 
 Were sown the seeds of a dark power 
 
 To over shade the land. 
 
 A baneful tree that spread and grew 
 With the increasing yeais, until 
 It branched and shadowed far to fill 
 
 The nation's life with grue. 
 
(4) 
 
 That other ship which westward sailed, 
 
 Bright keeled, high masted, staunch and brave ^ 
 Wombed with high fate, careered the wave, 
 
 And fair Virginia hailed. 
 
 She bore a bold, adventurous crew, 
 
 Such as ere' whiles the Argo bore 
 
 To reach a legendary shore — 
 But those for higher emprise drew 
 
 The fated ballot from the urn 
 On which fixed destiny had set- 
 The unchaugable decree which yet 
 
 In after years should glow and burn, 
 
 When chivalry with plumed casque, 
 And sword and buckler bright as flame, 
 Should blazon war's illustrious fame. 
 
 Valor's accepted task. 
 
 Near James' shore their home they built, 
 And from that nascent, pregnant hour 
 They grandly grew and rose to power, 
 
 With fame aad honor gilt^ 
 
 And southward with the genial sun, 
 Where other gallant peoples came , 
 They spread and grew, one race, one name, 
 
 In self same channels run. 
 
 Liberal, chivalrous, in cheer 
 
 Most hospital in home and hearth ; 
 
 To all the world they proved their birth, 
 
 The high plumed cavalier. 
 
 No better hand e'er drew a sword, 
 When duty and when honor called ; 
 And tyrrany slunk back appalled. 
 
 When forth his ranks in valor poured. 
 
 Quick to resent insult and wrong. 
 His knightly courage sought the foe 
 Called to ascount, he dealt the blow, 
 
 Prides* indignation, strong. 
 
(5) 
 
 The saving pride of race and name 
 Was ever his, and kept in ward ; 
 His sword outflashing tu the guard, 
 
 To challenge wrong and shame. 
 
 Much of the nation's heritage, 
 
 Of valor deeds and war's acclaim-^ 
 Of eloquence and a proud fame. 
 
 And a broad acreage^ 
 
 Was by his arm and genious won, 
 
 Nobly, unselfishly bestowed ; 
 
 A patriot warrior he strode, 
 Nor grudged what he had done. 
 
 But when low envy's rude despite 
 Traduced his honor and his fame. 
 Indignant he at the base shame 
 
 Arose to his full height^ 
 
 When bigot hatred in all mood, 
 A gilt philanthropy the plea, 
 Surveyed hi^ state and feudal fee. 
 
 Forth to the vile wrong stood; 
 
 And in the name of higher law 
 
 Called out the imps of wrong and fraud. 
 Sending the howling hounds abroad. 
 
 Forced him his sword to draw^-' 
 
 His sword indignant, whose quick blade 
 Had flashed upon a hundred fields. 
 Glaring o'er broken spears and shields 
 
 In honor's fame enrayed. 
 
 And now undaunted from its sheath 
 Flashed challtrnge and defiance high. 
 With the old spirit and defy 
 
 That struck old loes beneath ; 
 
 And for his right and honor stood. 
 
 For all things s icred soul may name^^ 
 That from his elden sires came,^ 
 
 In high defiant mood. 
 
(6) 
 
 And never cause had better plea, 
 And never sword had better cause 
 In all the scenes that story draws, 
 
 Or noble miustrelsee. 
 
 Not Salamis or Runnymede, 
 
 Or any other field divine ; 
 
 Nor Sempach's hill, memorial shrine 
 Of Arnold Winklereid. 
 
 Not Fabius for land and home 
 Had better cause or better creed^^ 
 When he drew sword in his high need, 
 
 When Carthage menaced Rome,— 
 
 Nor Alfred when he led his train 
 Of chiefs and yoeman to the field 
 With home wrought spear and breasting 
 shield 
 
 Against the invading Dane , , 
 
 Nor Harold, when all England rose 
 
 And rallied to her king around 
 
 His fated flag on Hastings' ground, 
 T' oppose his Norman foes ; 
 Than thou, O Southland, when the hour. 
 
 Thee summoned to the deed supreme ; 
 
 And Beauvior's Chieftain hailed the dream, 
 Of thy imperial power. 
 
 Then War's black vulture spread its wing, 
 Then Valor rose and Honor called ; 
 And Southland stood forth unappalled, 
 
 And for her gage did fling. 
 
 And lo ! a new born banner rose, 
 
 A meteor upon the view, 
 
 Star- rayed, that Valor loved and knew, 
 To dare a world of foes. 
 
 Proud chivalry's bright oriflamm.e, 
 
 Of saltier, stars and bars agi*eam, 
 
 Gilt with a rainbow hope abeam, 
 Quicked with immortal flame. 
 
(7) 
 
 But who was there in all the land 
 To fitly grasp the sacred stave ; 
 Great standard bearer, tall and brave. 
 
 And by its fortune stand ? 
 
 lyO, in the South a star was seen, 
 Resplendent as the Southern cross, 
 Above the clouds and billow toss 
 
 Of wars' black front asheen. 
 
 Out of the clouds of murk and night 
 Arose that star of halo light ; 
 The nation saw and hailed its beam, 
 Raying a realm's respendent dream, 
 The people hailed with loud acclaims, 
 And to their call the Chieftain came. 
 Great standard bearer in their name. 
 
 A chief was he of h'gh degree, 
 In council and in wisdom great. 
 Whose hand had held the helm of state 
 
 On strife's conflicting sea. 
 
 And his illustrious falchion bared, 
 Had o'er the waves of battle glared ; 
 Confusing with e'rwhelming blow 
 The valor of Ibeiean foe ; 
 Carving his name with fateful blade 
 On war's proud monument arrayed. 
 
 A man of broad, enlightened scope, 
 Politic skill and wisdom's rhyme, 
 High on the front he stood sublime 
 
 To prop a nation's hope. 
 
 So Fabius and Cato stood, 
 
 When Afra's waring legions fuarmed, 
 He bold as they and unalarmed. 
 
 As great and grand of mood 
 
 In Richmond's citadel he sate, 
 
 Viewing with calm prospective eye 
 The nnghty scene in grandeur high, 
 
 Forming tlie cast of fate. 
 
(8) 
 
 Tall at his side a geuius stood, 
 
 The goddess of the Southern sphere; 
 Him grandly urged to his career 
 
 Of patriot soldierhood. 
 
 A trumpet in his hand she placed 
 Of iron mouth and golden tips, 
 Of blazon thunder to eclipse 
 The loudest note that ever roused 
 A people when their duty droused, 
 Or fame had daring knighthood graced. 
 Or honor or the patriot towered. 
 When evil soul invasion • glowered. 
 
 And such a mighty blast he blew. 
 The knightliest that ever sprung ; 
 Prouder defiance yet never rung 
 
 The earth's broad borders through. 
 
 Defiance of the noblest pride, 
 
 The challenge of the noblest hop^lfj 
 That e'er bade patriot's broadest sc6pe 
 
 The chance of fate abide. 
 
 A blast that shook the round head throne 
 Far to its center, ireened it o'er ; 
 Such threaled ruin ne'er before 
 
 Had girded power known. 
 
 It echoed all the north realms through, 
 
 Round head startled and puritan ; 
 With such a blast Charles never blew 
 When for his throne and for his right 
 
 His challenge through all England ran. 
 And chivalry rose to its height. 
 When demagogue and faction stood 
 Bold on the front in alien mood, 
 Or when great Kosciusco rose 
 Illustrious 'gainst Muscove foes. 
 
 The Southland's call to the great deed, 
 The same as oft in olden tide, 
 When right girt falcions at his side 
 
 In his superior need, 
 
(9) 
 
 Forth staiuliniij to confront the foe, 
 In high defense of righteous cause 
 In just defense of home and laws 
 
 To give his arm's best blow. 
 
 Proudly that blast did his soul raise; 
 His call to arms was heard amain, 
 Leaping from dingle^ hill and plain, 
 
 Setting the land ablaze. 
 
 And to that call came the response, 
 An answer never yet more bold ; 
 O'er all the Southland realm it rolled, 
 
 Glorious and at once. 
 
 The voice of honor in reply, 
 
 The voice of home sure in the right, 
 As sword and spear lept to the height 
 
 Of ominous defy. 
 
 Thl^i a great hope rose into birth, 
 iiie noblest, most exalted known 
 To mortal ear in hlazon tone, 
 
 That ere has stirred the earth. 
 
 Forth from Virginia's royal realm, 
 
 From Florida ard Tennessee, 
 
 Came the ilevoted yeomuury 
 The invading foe to whelm. 
 
 The Carolinas heard the call. 
 
 And Georgia, Alabama sprang ; 
 
 And all the mighty southwest rang 
 To war's grand atabal., 
 
 Uprousiug half a million men, 
 
 And steeds more brave and men more bold 
 The elden days ne'er did behold, 
 
 Thau -Southland marshalled then. 
 
 For one great principal they stood, 
 The right to know and be their own. 
 Upon their native altars throne 
 
 Their own accepted good^ 
 
(10) 
 
 Founding an empire of broad scope, 
 Illustrious and daring scheme ! 
 As e'er ennobled statesman's dream 
 
 And quicked a hero's hope. 
 
 The dream that Pride and Valor knew 
 
 In noble blazonry its own; 
 As fair a dream as ever drew 
 The soul of hero till it grew 
 To the high statue of the deed, 
 
 Upon whose crest and fate alone 
 The will of fortune had decreed 
 
 The rise and fall of empires thrown 
 Into the scale where the home sword 
 Is weighed against th' invading horde. 
 
 Thus Gracia in the balauce weighed 
 Her destiny when Othman came , 
 Emblazing her all righteous blade 
 
 With high and honorable fame. 
 
 War thundered through the mighty scene 
 From East to v/here the sun declines, 
 And famed Mauasses, Seven Pines, 
 
 Still bloom in laurel green ; 
 A hundred more superior fields, 
 Memorial that never yields 
 
 Its lustre to time's shadow screen, 
 
 Hung on a hundred oaks their shields. 
 
 High o'er the scene the Chieftain reared 
 
 The bright plumed flag his people knew, 
 
 And inspiration from it drew, 
 It hallowed and fcevered ; 
 Hope's harbinger that star-like shone 
 In native beauty all its own ; 
 T'hen proud the foot of cavalier. 
 
 The puritan in scorn iul strife 
 
 Stamped down, and frayed his narrow life 
 In chivalry's career. 
 
(in 
 
 And had the strife been equal weighed, 
 
 lu balanced scales impartial set, 
 The Southland's knightly hilted blade 
 
 And forward spear which never yet 
 Had drawn back from an equal foe ; 
 
 But challenge such had ever met, 
 Had turned the scales of fight and laid 
 
 In dire defeat the round head low, 
 And in high grace our Chief arrayed. 
 
 Oh ! alien destiny, ill spleened, 
 Oh ! evil fortunes ! woe the hour, 
 
 When Southland's hope to ruin creened^ 
 And round head rule arose to power, 
 
 And better hope and better right, 
 As oft ill destiny has* willed, 
 Ere they thy luring hope had filled, 
 
 Sank back in ruin's night ! 
 
 But right imperial will rise, 
 
 Though man}^ years miscast it roam 
 
 The wilderness, to the emprise 
 
 Breeding new strength again to come 
 At rising tide to claim its own. 
 
 Through four tremendous year the boom 
 Of that titanic strife dread raged. 
 
 Whiles mighty fates opposing gauged 
 A nation's life and doom. 
 
 Yet, still the Southland's Chief arose 
 
 Undaunted to his height supreme ; 
 
 Th' embodiment of that high dream, 
 An empire in repose. 
 When through the mufk and storm and war 
 
 His country shoulfl liave won that goal. 
 
 The golden Can an of his soul, 
 Aluring as the star. 
 That shone from out the nightly blue. 
 
 The shepherds leading to their hope ; 
 
 Not even less was his the scope 
 Of premise to pursue. 
 
(12) 
 
 His people leading to the shrine 
 Of their attained desires, and place 
 The wreath of triumph, well-won grace 
 
 On Southland's brows divine. 
 
 But Fate, whose will he had reversed, 
 Long standing back at his command ; 
 
 From his enforced enchantment burst, 
 Raging as Ate through the land^ 
 
 Calling on Force and Hate and Wrong, 
 And howling Rage ; and all that throng 
 Blared through the armies of the foe : 
 And Kurope's hired myrmidons. 
 
 Who for a pittance fought and bread, 
 Starved hirelings, too gross and low 
 
 To serve a principle, but shed 
 Their vile blood in a cause unknown, 
 Nor cared that right were overthrown 
 So that they throve ; and round head gold 
 Made them adventurous and bold ; 
 And round head envy and hate's wrong 
 
 Held carnival upon the field ; 
 
 And Southland's hand was forced to yield 
 To over power strong. 
 
 So Poland fell before the might 
 Of overforce that crushed amain, 
 111 starred, despairing to maintain 
 
 'Gainst odds the cause of right. 
 
 O Appomattox ! ill the hour, 
 
 When destiny's abalien pen 
 Writ down thy uame, Thermopylae ! 
 And Southland shorn of her high power. 
 
 Cast back in mire and fen, 
 Saw her high hope go down with thee ! 
 
 There Valor fought and Honor strove 
 As never yet on knightly field. 
 And justice to the right appealed 
 
 And with its falcion clove. 
 
(13) 
 
 An avenue through hedging foes, 
 Who like the locusts Egypt knew , 
 From varied realms their cohorts drew 
 
 A dragon ring in which to close 
 And crush the dauntless few ! 
 
 O, vaunting roundhead^puritan, 
 
 Of masked religious front and mien. 
 
 That hid behind politic screen, 
 In name of law, fierce breathing ban — 
 
 In freedom's name enforcing wrong-, 
 
 And in the name of gilded right^ 
 A counterfeit of your damned crew, 
 Unholy sword of factions drew/ 
 
 And right,bound to the throne of might, 
 To over-force,not the emprise 
 
 Of glory and of honor falls ; 
 But justice in whose pathway lies 
 
 The promised recompense that calls 
 To deeds of glory and renown, 
 To whom the patriot right belongs 
 In righteous sway to right all wrongs, 
 
 And frown down envy's frown. 
 
 To whom pertains the recompense 
 That Valor and that honor bring ; 
 But which oblique oft forced to swing 
 
 By tyrrany's offense ! *. 
 
 Thus was thy cause, O Southland, turned 
 
 By ill souled destiny aside ; 
 To ashes gray thy censor burned. 
 
 And all thy promise died ! 
 
 And thy bright banner from thy hand, 
 A meteor cast through the gloom ; 
 
 Far blazing as the lightning's brand, 
 Proclaimed thy empire's doom. 
 
 Emblazing thy illustrious fall ; 
 
 Thy jewelled sword to fragments crashed, 
 
 Into illuming sparkles flashed 
 A glory gleam o'er all. 
 
(14) 
 
 As in thy red ordeal fame, 
 
 Blazoned the valor of thy sons, 
 
 That yet shall blaze while glory runs, 
 
 Blaze with enduring fame. 
 
 For right o'erthrown is sacred still, 
 
 It never forfeits yet its own ; 
 
 Enduring as th' immortal throne, 
 Built on th' eternal hill. 
 
 O, Southland, stand upon thy grade ! 
 
 A splendid elegy is thine ; 
 
 A song and memory div ne, 
 Bright as the patriot's blade. t 
 
 Oh ! be thyself what e'er the doom, 
 111 fate to thee has given. Thy meed 
 Is but the measure of the screed 
 
 Thy prestige shall assume. 
 
 A vision fallen from its height. 
 
 Yet hopefully to be replumed, 
 
 By its inherent powders illumed, 
 To its supernal flight 
 Self resurrected. So arose 
 
 The new^ born phoenix from the flame 
 Of his redemption to the glows 
 
 Of higher life and brighter fame, 
 On broader wing and bolder plume 
 Above the nether fens of gloom. 
 
 And thy illustrious banner where ? 
 
 A meteor lost in the pall 
 
 Of war's black tempest, with thy fall 
 It sank to hope's despair. 
 
 O Rainbow Spirit of the skies, 
 To what for covert hast thy flown ? 
 Thy bright plumes shorn, thy crested crown 
 
 In some low shadow lies. 
 
 Bright dream of glory and of fame 
 That lured our daring hopes on high ^ 
 O grief! that thou shouldst fall and die,_ 
 
 Quenching thy meteor flame ! 
 
(15) 
 
 Art thou forever gone ? Yet throw 
 Back to our sphere one shining plume 
 To light the shadows of our gloom, 
 
 Where our great dream lies low ! 
 
 Sweet to his soul the voice of praise 
 That greets the victor when he comes 
 With blaring trump and rolling drums 
 And peau shouts of martial lays, 
 And crowning wreath of triumph bays, 
 And thunder of the cannon's boom, 
 And flaunt of flag and waving plume, 
 And shouting peoples hail his name 
 With mighty and a high acclaim ! 
 
 But to the hero overborne. 
 
 Reft of his patriot spear and shield, 
 Facing the foeman's hate and scorn. 
 
 The hero of a high fought field ; 
 To him but only can pertain 
 The spirit of Promethean strain, 
 
 A lofty pride that scorns to yield 
 To the ill fortune of the hour ; 
 
 Self conscious of his cause and right, 
 
 In noble self approval strong, 
 Imperial in his soul's power, 
 
 Scorning from his superior height 
 
 The flings of rabaldry and wrong. 
 
 Of such high doom be mine the dole 
 To tell in honorable strain , 
 Raising^Jmy plea and not in vain 
 
 For that great noble soul, 
 
 Whose fate,ill won and ill deserved* 
 
 The cause ennobled which he served. 
 
 Whose mighty aspirations died ; 
 
 The grandest dream that ever raised 
 
 An empire up until ablazed 
 In glory, proudly died ! 
 
(16) 
 
 Who unsubdued when alien fate 
 
 The scepter struck forth from his hand^ 
 In his illustrious fall more grand 
 
 Thau in his power's estate, 
 
 Rose from his fall in god-like mood, 
 Too great, too noble, Roman-like, 
 To kiss the hand that dared to strike^ 
 
 He fallen, though unsubdued^ 
 
 The hand that faction's fiiry nerved, 
 'The hand, a tool to party spleen ; 
 Striking behind politic screen, 
 
 A party purpose served. 
 
 So "Wallace from his country torn, 
 
 His country 'neath th' invader's power. 
 Rose to the grandeur of the hour. 
 
 Meeting the foeman's scorn. 
 
 Great in defeat as once he stood 
 The herald of his country's hope ; 
 As great with adverse fate cope. 
 
 Unconquerable mood ! 
 
 Not otherwise our chosen rose 
 
 From his illustrious fall ; 
 O such a fall ! as with him fell 
 An empire's hope, whose pean swell 
 In ebbing echoes still o'erflows • 
 
 The rounds of earth in all its realms. 
 
 In low and murmurous recall 
 
 Of banished hopes and broken dreams. 
 Immortal aspirations plumed 
 Of highest flight to be so doomed ! 
 
 He wrought in faith all could be done. 
 
 Opposing to prescriptive fate; 
 And never more devoted son, 
 
 More loyal and more dutiful. 
 
 In filial faith more beautiful, 
 Was ever yet more faithful won — 
 
 In king or priest or chieftain seen, 
 
a?) 
 
 To cause and people, cause and right ;- 
 And when came fate's opprobious night, 
 The night of destiny— not shame, 
 The more resplendent shone his name, 
 As stricken faith has ever shone, 
 Bound captive to a tyrant's throne. 
 
 So Israel's kingly chieftain seemed. 
 When Babylon's fierce king him bound 
 In captive chains and glooms profound 
 
 By light of heaven unbeamed. 
 
 Yon hostile fortress of rude stone 
 To Southland's heart shall ever be 
 Illustrious in high degree, 
 
 O memory, thine own ! 
 
 A memory of living fame, 
 lUuminant by story's ray, 
 Reflect from time's remotest day, 
 
 Graced by his mighty name. 
 
 No more illustrious captive fate^ 
 Has ever bound in prison", j'oom, 
 Around whose memory there bloom 
 
 The wreathed chains of State. 
 
 Not Regulus when bound in chains, 
 Nor Richard in his Austrian cell ; 
 Nor one of whom the ages tell, 
 
 Nor harp of noblest strains, 
 
 Who fell upon the sacred field 
 
 With sword and buckler in his hand. 
 Whose high defiance scorned to yield 
 
 At girded tyranny's command. 
 Or bound in captive shackles led 
 
 To grace the circus of the foe. 
 When might triumphed, and justice bled 
 
 Beneath the weight of faction's blow. 
 
 Not one of these, nor all of these, 
 May boast a more illustrious fate, 
 Or more unjustly felt the weight 
 
 Of alien destinies, 
 
(18) 
 
 When cowardice of faction howled. 
 And party grue and party spleen, 
 Assailed his honorhood serene ; 
 
 And in black hatred scowled. 
 
 Now when the fullness of the years 
 That grandeur's scope had rounded up, 
 In glory came, he drank the cup 
 
 Dewed by his people's tears. 
 
 A golden chalice in the hand 
 
 Of honor held, enwreathed by fame, 
 Engilded by a golden flame, 
 
 By airs immortal fanned. 
 
 As he had grandly lived — so died, 
 In feigned submission never stooped. 
 In that high hour his soul nee'r drooped, 
 
 Nor bent his mighty pride. 
 
 The image of his people high, 
 
 Before all earth he held their fame. 
 That they might never blush for sname, 
 
 In the all critic eye. 
 
 Then let his filial people rear, 
 A duty gift to patriots dear, 
 
 A monument to his high praise, 
 
 Memorial that shall emblaze 
 The honors of his great career, 
 
 A keepsake to all after days. 
 
 Deep set, enduring, broad and tall, 
 None worthierf more nobly won. 
 
 None meeter in all earth's broad scope. 
 
 Where truth and right enshrine a hope 
 For worthful deed in conscience done, 
 In righteousness of just defence, 
 
 That fame or heraldry may call, 
 A just and honored recompense, 
 
 But a poor recompense withall. 
 
(19) 
 
 As earnest pilgrims to the shrine 
 
 Of Mecca or Jerusalem ; 
 Vernon, or Alfred's tomb divine, 
 
 Where memory's immortal gem 
 Is blazoned and will ever shine ; 
 
 From times high walls a beacon light, 
 I^et ours their yearly tribute pay 
 
 A reverend and hallowed rite, 
 Gracing his tomb in high array 
 Of honor's wreath and proudly raise 
 Fame's noblest anthem to his praise. 
 
 My song is sung, O ! Muse divine, 
 Forgive that I presume to sing, 
 And to thy altar such gift bring 
 
 As this poor rune of mine ; 
 
 Which by thy breath inspiring grew. 
 And by thy touch can only live, 
 
 Accept the heart for the poor deed. 
 
 The reach and compass of my screed ; 
 As she into the casket threw 
 The farthing precious to her view, 
 
 The soulful earnest of her creed. 
 

 m 
 
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