As his troubles gathered round him,
Thick as waves that beat the shore,
Atra Cura rode behind him,
Famine's shadow filled his door;
Still he wrought deeds no mortal man
Had ever wrought before.
IV.
Then came the end, my Countrymen,
The last thunderbolts were hurled!
Worn out by his own victories
His battle flags were furled
And a history was finished
That has changed the modern world.
As some saint in the arena
Of a bloody Roman game,
As the prize of his endeavor,
Put on an immortal frame,
Through long agonies our Soldier
Won the crown of martial fame.
But there came a greater glory
To that man supremely great
(When his just sword he laid aside
In peace to serve his State)
For in his classic solitude
He rose up and mastered Fate.
He triumphed and he did not die!—
No funeral bells are tolled—
But on that day in Lexington
Fame came herself to hold
His stirrup while he mounted
To ride down the streets of gold.
He is not dead! There is no death!
He only went before
His journey on when CHRIST THE LORD
Wide open held the door,
And a calm, celestial peace is his:
Thank God! forevermore.
V.
When the effigy of Washington
In its bronze was reared on high
'Twas mine, with others, now long gone.
Beneath a stormy sky,
To utter to the multitude
His name that cannot die.
And here to-day, my Countrymen,
I tell you Lee shall ride
With that great "rebel" down the years—
Twin "rebels" side by side!—
And confronting such a vision
All our grief gives place to pride.