Classic Poem

He is gone, loaded with years and honors!
He who before the rich rewards of Kings
Preferred to succor the distressed, and raise
His arm in freedom's holy cause, is gone!
Mourn France a son, who shed around thy name
A never-fading splendor! He caus'd no
Widow's tears to flow, he caus'd no orphans
“To demand their sire with tears of artless
Innocence.” Heaven hasten'd not to snatch from
Our admiring gaze; but granted riches
And honors, length of days to show, that, e'en
Upon earth, virtue is oft rewarded.
Columbia's daughters weep! But for him
Your children, now perhaps in bondage,
Might live to curse the day that gave them birth.
And yet her sons lament! lament for him,
Who in his youthful days your fathers' arm
Upheld, reviv'd their drooping hopes, and gave
Them vigor to resist their haughty foe.
Ye mountains veil your heads in clouds and mourn
For him, who around your summits cast glory
More bright than noon-day sun! Ye waving pines
Sigh louder in the blast; for he, who gave
You liberty's fair soil, is now no more.
And thou, O boundless ocean, mourn! for ne'er
Again thy waves shall bear to freedom's coast,
One more worthy of thy lamentation.
Fairer, Lafayette, than summer's day thy
Latter years, and thou on whom a nation's
Blessings fell, shall now receive a nation's tears.