INSCRIPTION
FOR THE TOMB OF GENERAL WAYNE.
HERE LIES
Beneath this noble tent
Fitting for nobler enterprize;
With nothing less than Heaven content:
Waiting (while ordered out again)
Till trumpets bid him rise,
To join the armies of the skies.
IMMORTAL
GENERAL WAYNE,
Tho’ here
At winter quarters,
His warlike corps remain,
Tho’ Death, that monarch grim,
A prisoner made of him,
His gallant enterprising soul
Is on parole,
Viewing each heav’nly plain,
Where he
Must shortly be
With Indian Chiefs in Unity,
His next Campaign.
For the New-York Weekly Magazine.
THE CHOICE.
In rural scenes, in sylvan shades,
Near purling brooks and silent glades,
Meand’ring streams and flow’ry fields,
Where Nature all her fragrance yields.