And Washington, Columbia's son,
Whom easy nature taught, sir,
That grace which can't by pains be won,
Or Plutus's gold be bought, sir.
Now hand in hand they circle round
This ever-dancing peer, sir;
Their gentle movements soon confound
The earl as they draw near, sir.
His music soon forgets to play—
His feet can move no more,[1] sir,
And all his bands now curse the day
They jiggèd to our shore, sir.
Now Tories all, what can ye say?
Come—is not this a griper,
That while your hopes are danced away,
'Tis you must pay the piper?
1781.
[1] In all the versions of this poem examined by the editor this line reads "His feet can no more move, sir"; but the reading is so clearly wrong that it seems proper to amend it so that the obviously intended rhyme between "more, sir" and "shore, sir" shall appear. There is the greater justification for the taking of this liberty of correction because the poem originally appeared in carelessly edited contemporary prints.—Editor.
SONG OF MARION'S MEN.
By WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT.
[A very interesting bit of literary history attaches to this poem. The piece appeared in Mr. Bryant's first collected volume of poems about 1831. Mr. Bryant sent the volume, with a letter, to Washington Irving, then in London, with whom he had no personal acquaintance, and invoked his good offices in inducing Murray to bring out an English edition of the work. The time being peculiarly unpropitious, Murray declined to undertake the venture, but Irving found another publisher, and himself introduced the volume in the most favorable manner, with a dedicatory letter of his own. While passing the book through the press the publisher observed in this poem the lines: