XXXV
How oft, did hope thy blest return pourtray,
And bid me dwell upon that joyous day,
When once again, from every danger free,
Thy bounding vessel from the stormy sea,
Should to my arms, thy much lov’d form restore,
To taste each blessing of thy native shore;
To charm thy bosom after years of pain,
And ceaseless labor for unstable gain;
Oft, in fond fancy, would I seem to hear
Thy tale of sorrow murm’ring in my ear;
How the wild tempest toss’d thy ship on high,
And fate seem’d brooding in the whirlwind’s sigh;
How swift she flew before the lightning breeze,
And swept resistless o’er the foaming seas;
Or where in polar region’s wintry reign,
Where endless frost o’er nature binds its chain,
The stiffen’d canvass whistled in the blast,
And the vex’d cordage lash’d the lonely mast;
How in the fairest, most enchanting scenes,
Where blooming China spreads her living greens,
Her citron forests, and her Orange bowers,
Her vines of plenty, rich in fruit, and flowers;
Still, still, thy home was dearest, loveliest still,
And fond remembrance oft thy eyes would fill:
But fled the hope; no more thy comely form,
With rapt’rous gladness, shall my bosom warm;
Never, again, shall I those features trace,
That join’d to harmonize thy manly face;—
Entomb’d, unhonor’d, tho’ thy bones may lie,
Thy fate shall claim the deeply-breathing sigh;
Far distant, sunk in ocean’s caverns drear,
For thee, snail stream the sympathizing tear.
XXXVI
O virtue! ever be my guide,
Whatever storms my life betide!
May I, where’er my wand’rings lead,
Still scorn dishonor’s thriftless deed,
Still glory in a spotless name,
My wishes few, my passions tame;
Still, may my native country be
Dearer than foreign climes, to me:
Still, may the mem’ry of my sires
My bosom fill with patriot fires;
Awake Columbia’s spirit there,
And prompt, her weal, and wo to share;
O who! that bears a human heart,
Would basely shun an active part,
In day of danger, and of dread,
When foes their native soil invade,
Would mark their country drench’d in blood,
Nor pant to join the sanguine flood.
To die, or conquer in her cause,
And win fair virtue’s warm applause;
To plant, upon the tott’ring breach,
Her eagle banner stain’d with gore;
To pour the life-stream on the beach,
Ere foot of foeman touch’d the shore,
Where freedom dwells forevermore.
XXXVII
So will her sons, supremely brave,
Rejoice in vict’ry or the grave;
Howe’er around the world they rove,
Still, they their native soil will love;
The spark, from thee, great Washington!
First breath’d, shall warm each patriot son,
Raise in their breasts the lasting fire,
That ev’n in death, shall ne’er expire;
But, from their cold remains arise,
The flame of future victories.
XXXVIII
The lay that memory, lenient goddess, lent,
Is ended, and my form, that fondly bent
O’er the wild tones that swell my untaught lyre,
Has ceased, extinct the momentary fire;
Mute is the voice, that erewhile tuned the lays,
That sung, dear distant home, thy honest praise.
Oh when again, shall I thy scenes review,
And each fond tie of tenderness renew;
Roam once again, along thy lovely stream;
Court, on thy hills, the moon’s first glitt’ring beam;
Dwell on the beauties of thy landscape wide;
And hear the torrent, on thy mountain side:
Tired of the busy, of the bustling scene,
My wishes dwell along thy circled green;
Bound o’er the intervening vast of space,
And all the beauties of thy landscape trace;—
Tho far removed, my native grove, from thee,
My faithful heart midst thy wild scenes will be,
When fancy lends her wings of loveliest hue,
And past delights come rushing to the view;—
Mark the sequester’d beauties of thy vales,
And breathe again thy healthful mountain gales;
Remembrance, sweetly, every charm shall bring,
That woke delight, in youth’s gay radiant spring;
The dearest blessing of my life shall be,
The lasting mem’ry, and the love of thee.