And now from retirement the People doth call him,
Because he is Honest and Qualified too;
And for One Term they soon will install him
As President—"Hero of Tippecanoe."
Let knaves call him "coward," and fools call him "granny"
To answer their purpose—this never will do;
When rallied around him we'll rout little Vanny,
And give him a Thames—or a full Waterloo.
The Republican banner of Freedom is flying,
The Eagle of Liberty soars in your view;
Then rally my hearties—all slanders defying,
And thunder huzza! for "Old Tippecanoe."
Among the supporters of brave General Jackson,
There are many Republicans, honest and true,
To such we say "come out from among them,"
And "go it for" Tyler and "Tippecanoe."
Harrison was inaugurated March 4, 1841. He was at that time sixty-eight years of age, but he took up the work of his office with a vigor almost youthful. On March 27, however, he contracted a chill, pneumonia developed, and he died April 4. The vice-president, John Tyler, at once took the oath of office as president.
THE DEATH OF HARRISON
[April 4, 1841]
What! soar'd the old eagle to die at the sun!
Lies he stiff with spread wings at the goal he had won!
Are there spirits more blest than the "Planet of Even,"
Who mount to their zenith, then melt into Heaven—
No waning of fire, no quenching of ray,
But rising, still rising, when passing away?
Farewell, gallant eagle! thou'rt buried in light!
God-speed into Heaven, lost star of our night!
Death! Death in the White House! Ah, never before,
Trod his skeleton foot on the President's floor!
He is look'd for in hovel, and dreaded in hall—
The king in his closet keeps hatchment and pall—
The youth in his birthplace, the old man at home,
Make clean from the door-stone the path to the tomb;—
But the lord of this mansion was cradled not here—
In a churchyard far-off stands his beckoning bier!
He is here as the wave-crest heaves flashing on high—
As the arrow is stopp'd by its prize in the sky—
The arrow to earth, and the foam to the shore—
Death finds them when swiftness and sparkle are o'er—
But Harrison's death fills the climax of story—
He went with his old stride—from glory to glory!
Lay his sword on his breast! There's no spot on its blade
In whose cankering breath his bright laurels will fade!
'Twas the first to lead on at humanity's call—
It was stay'd with sweet mercy when "glory" was all!
As calm in the council as gallant in war,
He fought for its country and not its "hurrah!"
In the path of the hero with pity he trod—
Let him pass—with his sword—to the presence of God!