Like the Roman who looked back upon the glory of his ancestors, in woe, exclaiming,
“Great Scipio’s ghost complains that we are slow,
And Pompey’s shade walks unavenged among us,”
the great dead hover around me:—Lawrence, “Don’t give up the ship.”—Henry, “Give me liberty or give me death!”—Adams, “Survive or perish, I am for the Declaration.”—Allan, “In the name of the living God, I come!”
Come then, Thou Eternal, who dwellest not in temples made with hands, but who, in the city’s crowd or by the far forest stream, revealest Thyself to the earnest seeker after the true and right, inspire my heart; give me undying courage to pursue the promptings of my spirit; and whether I shall be called in the shades of life to look upon as sweet and kind and lovely faces as now, or shut in by sorrow and night, horrid visions shall gloom upon me in my dying hour, O my country, mayest thou yet be free!
COLUMBIA
BY FREDERICK LAWRENCE KNOWLES
Mated to the Millennium,—Time’s last heir
And proudest daughter, conquerless as he;
Girdled with lakes like jewels princely fair,