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WASHINGTON, THE DEFENDER OF HIS COUNTRY, THE FOUNDER OF LIBERTY, THE
FRIEND OF MAN.
HISTORY AND TRADITION ARE EXPLORED IN VAIN
FOR A PARALLEL TO HIS CHARACTER.
HE STANDS ALONE,
LOSE THEIR LUSTRE IN HIS PRESENCE.
BORN THE BENEFACTOR OF MANKIND,
TO AN ILLUSTRIOUS CAREER.
HE MADE HIMSELF VIRTUOUS.
AND ON THE PILLARS OF NATIONAL INDEPENDENCE
LAID THE FOUNDATIONS OF A GREAT REPUBLIC,
HE SURPASSED IN THE CABINET
THE GLORIES OF THE FIELD, AND VOLUNTARILY RESIGNING THE SCEPTRE AND THE SWORD,
RETIRED TO THE SHADES OF PRIVATE LIFE.
A SPECTACLE SO NEW AND SO SUBLIME
WAS CONTEMPLATED WITH THE PROFOUNDEST ADMIRATION ;
AND THE NAME OF
ADDING NEW LUSTRE TO HUMANITY,
MAGNANIMOUS IN YOUTH,
GREAT IN DEATH,
HIS NOBLEST VICTORY THE CONQUEST OF HIMSELF, BEQUEATHING TO POSTERITY THE INHERITANCE OF HIS FAME, AND BUILDING HIS MONUMENT IN THE HEARTS OF HIS
AND DIED REGRETTED BY A MOURNING WORLD.
1. Far from the busy walks of men,
Beneath a spreading cedar's shade,
Joins with the beauty of the glade,
The unbroken mirror of the skies,
The FATHER of his country lies.
2. No costly monumental pile
Marks the immortal patriot's grave ;
Records the glories of the brave;
Of simple masonry alone,
His epitaph is - WASHINGTON.
3. Immortal man! thy deathless name,
When Gallia's glories are no more,
From land to land, from shore to shore.
Where young Ambition plumed his flight, Shall yield to Trenton's wintry flood,
Where patriot valor fought for right.
4. The catalogue of conquerors
And heroes whom the bard has sung,
In whose applause the world has rung,
Of him who led his freemen brave,
To liberty or to the grave.
5. Their hands were dyed with guiltless blood,
Their aim, ambition's topmost round,
The conqueror's fame their only god,
Their throne, a vanquished world around.
His path was dewed with tears of joy-
His motto, “ Raise, and not destroy."
6. Sweet is the mighty chieftain's sleep,
Under the fragrant cedar's shade,
Their tuneful vigils round his head.
In pensive strains amid the trees,
Baltimore Saturday Visiter.
1. THERE dwelt THE MAN, the flower of human kind,
Whose visage mild bespoke his nobler mind;
2. There dwelt the hero, who ne'er killed for fame,
Yet gained more glory than a Cæsar's name;
3. And, 0, Columbia! by thy sons caressed,
There dwelt the father of the realms he blessed ;
THE HUSBAND'S COMPLAINT.
1. I Hate the name of German wool in all its colors bright;
Of chairs and stools, in fancy work, I hate the very sight.
2. I've heard of wives too musical, too talkative, or quiet
Of scolding or of gaming wives, and those too fond of riot ;
3. The other day, when I came home, no dinner's got for me ;
I asked my wife the reason, and she answered, “One, two, three!”
4. Of course she makes me angry, though she does n't care for that,
But chatters, while I talk to her, “One white, and then a black, One green, and then a purple— (just hold your tongue, my dear ; You really do annoy me so) —I've made a wrong stitch here."
5. And as for confidential chat, with her eternal frame,
Though I should speak of fifty things, she'd answer me the same; 'Tis “ Yes, love— five reds, then a black — (I quite agree with
you) – I've done this wrong
-seven, eight, nine, ten- - an orange, then a blue.”
6. If any lady comes to tea, her bag is first surveyed ;
And if the pattern pleases her, a copy then is made. She stares the men quite out of face; and when I ask her why, 'T is, “O! my love, the pattern of his waistcoat struck my eye.'
7. And if to walk I am inclined, ('t is seldom I go out,)
At every worsted-shop she sees, oh! how she looks about,
8. Besides, the things she makes are all such touch-me-not affairs ;
I dare not even use a stool nor screen ; and, as for chairs,
9. Alas! for my poor little ones, they dare not move or speak ;
where 's your feet?
10. Oh! Heaven preserve me from a wife with fancy-work run wild,
And hands which never do aught else for husband or for child.
11. I'll put my children out to school, - I'll go across the sea ;
My wife, so full of fancy-work, I'm sure, cannot miss me.
and four ;'
CHAPTER L X X XII.
THE MILLER OF MANSFIELD.
- I can
Enter the King alone, wrapped in a cloak. King. No, no ! this can be no public road, that's certain. I have lost my way undoubtedly. Of what advantage is it now to be a king ? Night shows me no respect neither see better nor walk so well as another man. When a king is lost in a wood, what is he more than other men ? His wisdom knows not which is north, and which is south ; his power, a beggar's dog would bark at, and the beggar himself would not bow to his greatness. And yet how often are