LA FAYETTE——A SONG.
BY WILLIAM BRADFORD, ESQ.
LATE ATTORNEY GENERAL OF THE UNITED STATES.
As beside his cheerful fire,
’Midst his happy family,
Sat a venerable sire,
Tears were starting in his eye;
Selfish blessings were forgot
Whilst he thought on Fayette’s lot,
Once so happy on our plains,
Now in poverty and chains.
Fayette (cried he) honoured name,
Dear to these far distant shores:
Fayette, fired by Freedom’s flame,
Bled to make that freedom ours;
What, alas! for thee remains,
What, but poverty and chains!
Soldiers, in the field of death,
Was not Fayette foremost there?
Cold and shivering on the heath,
Did you not his bounty share?
What for this your friend remains,
What, but poverty and chains!
Born to honours, ease, and wealth,
See him sacrifice them all,
Sacrificing even health,
At his country’s glorious call.
What reward for this remains,
What, but poverty and chains!
Hapless Fayette! ’midst thy error,
How my soul thy worth reveres;
Son of Freedom, tyrant’s terror,
Hero of both hemispheres.
What, alas! for thee remains,
What, but poverty and chains!
Thus with laurels on his brow,
Belisarius begged for bread;
Thus, from Carthage forced to go,
Hannibal an exile fled:
Fayette thus, at once sustains,
Exile, poverty, and chains!
Courage, child of Washington,
Though thy fate disastrous seems,
We have seen the setting sun
Rise and shine with brighter beams;
Thy country soon shall break thy chain,
And take thee to her arms again.
For the New-York Weekly Magazine.
When the Author of the following Elegy finds it is committed to print, he will not, I am persuaded, be offended, after I remind him of the conversation we had some time since:—And also when he reflects on the injury he does the Public, by keeping any of his productions from their view.