A DIALOGUE AT WASHINGTON'S TOMB
Genius of Virginia—and—Virginia.
Genius. Who are these that lawless come
Washington! too near thy tomb?—
Are they those who, long before,
Came to subjugate this shore?—
Are they those whom he repell'd,
Captured, or imprison'd held?
Or the sons of those of old
Cast in nature's rudest mould,—
Dear Virginia, can it be?
What a stain is laid on thee!
Virginia. Such a stain as I do swear
Fills my swelling heart with care
How to wash away the stain,
How to be myself again.
From my breast the hero rose,
In my soil his bones repose:
But this insult to thy shade,
Washington, shall be repaid.
Genius. Dear Virginia! tell me how?—
Tell me not, or tell me now,
Can you wield the bolts of Jove,
Seize the lightnings from above?
Tear the mountain from its base
To confound this hated race,
Who, with hostile step, presume
To violate the honor'd tomb
Of my bravest, noblest son,
Of th' immortal Washington!
Virginia. Not the artillery of the sky,
Not the vengeance from on high
Did I want, to guard my son,
I have lightnings of my own!
But I wanted——
Genius. ——Wanted what?
Tell me now, or tell me not.
Virginia. Men, whom Washington had taught,
Men of fire, and men of thought,
All their spirits in a glow,
Ever ready for the foe;
Born to meet the hostile shock,
Sturdy as the mountain oak—
Active, steady, on their guard,
For the scene of death prepared;
Such I wanted—say no more;
Time, perhaps, may such restore.