Classic Poem

The Brave young Marquis, second but to one
For whom he felt the reverence of a son,
Rides at the head of his division proud--
A ray of Glory painted on the cloud!
Mad Anthony is there, and Knox--but why
Great names like battle flags attempt to fly?
Who sings of skies lit up by Jove and Mars
Thinks not to chant a catalogue of stars!
I bow me low, and bowing low I pass
Unnumbered heroes in unnumbered mass,
While at their head in grave, and sober state,
Rides one whom Time has found completely great
Master of Fortune and the match of Fate!

* * * * *

Then Tilghman mounted on these Plains of York
Swift sped away as speeds the homing hawk,
And soon 'twas his to wake that watchman's cry
That woke all Nations and shall never die!