Classic Poem

On yonder swelling height,
With ivied oaks and cedars crowned,
Where Freedom's banner floats in light,
And every whispering sound
Breathes of the past, 'tis consecrated ground.

Pilgrim! ascend the steep,
And there, with true and feeling heart,
On Vernon's brow deep silence keep;
Ay, let the tear-drop start
While proud yet hallowed thoughts a balm impart.

Nature hath marked the spot
Where sleeps the great, the good, the wise,
Entombed, yet ne'er to be forgot:
Ah! there the hero lies,
The man of mighty deeds and high emprise.

A calm hillside retreat,
Soft mirrored in Potomac's tide,
The spot he chose, at Vernon's seat,
'Mid wild flowers scattered wide,
And pleasant groves that wave in native pride.

Though but a lowly shrine,
There grateful hearts delight to pay
Homage to Freedom's son divine,
The mightiest in the fray,
The mightiest in his country's darkest day.

True worth like his disdains
The marble's proud emblazoned chart,
And trusts to lore which still remains
Engraved upon the heart
When crumbling fall the monuments of Art.

But turn where stands the hall
In which the chieftain dwelt of yore,
And view, still gleaming on the wall,
The armor which he wore,
With belt and plume, and sabre stained with gore;

And, with the memories dim
Which gather round that sacred hearth,
Recall the lessons taught by him
Who godlike trod the earth,
And blessed her sons, and gave a nation birth,—

The patriot calm, yet bold,
Whose glorious deeds will ever shed
Renown upon those days of old,
When he to battle led
The stern and true who bravely fought and bled.

'Twas then, in counsels grave,
That statesmen, noblest of the land,
Their solemn pledge to Freedom gave,
And boldly took their stand
In her defence, united heart and hand.

And still, unmoved by fear,
Shall Freedom's sons maintain the right;
Nor marvel, though the rolling year
Disclose to man new light
To cheer his faith, and give him moral might.

How oft with placid eye
Has he, whose spirit awes us still,
Stood where we stand, and viewed the sky,
The river, vale, and hill,
And heard the forest-bird its anthem trill!

And down the vale that sweeps
In graceful curves to ocean's tide,
How calm the bridal landscape sleeps,
While zephyrs playful glide,
Fanning the flowers that blush in sinless pride!

And see in distance rise,
Like sentinels to guard the scene,
Mountains half lost in magic skies,
With pleasant vales between,
Where Beauty, cradled, wears a smile serene.

In all her wide domain,
Say, where has Nature lavished more
To please the eye, the heart to gain,
Or bid the fancy soar,
Than here upon Potomac's peaceful shore?

'Twas here, retired, he sought
A tranquil life to love endeared,—
He who the stern resolve had wrought,
In days of gloom uncheered,
To strike for human rights, though traitors sneered.

When erst the hero drew
His battle-blade amid the wild,
Braddock, to English feeling true,
Spurned him as but a child,
Yet rashly fell with many a victim piled.

Nor dreamed the world as yet
That glittering on a stripling's breast
The “star of empire” had been set;
Nor yet had dreamed the oppressed
How soon that rising star would cheer the West.

When Freedom's spirit woke,
And blood at Lexington had flowed,
Brave men flung off at once the yoke,—
Allegiance long bestowed,—
And flew to arms with zeal that fervent glowed.

From mountain, hill, and glen,
Like torrents rushed the sons of toil,—
Indignant yet high-minded men,
Defenders of the soil,
Whose sturdy blows the oppressor could not foil.

Proud mistress of the sea!
They taught thy pride a lesson wise
Who o'erboard cast rich freights of tea
Before thy wondering eyes,
And dared thy royal stamp and tax despise.

Though darker grew the day,—
“A day that tried,” as if by fire,
Men's souls,”—yet heroes led the way,
Fearless of Britain's ire,
With solemn vow to triumph, or expire.

Musing, methinks I hear
The chieftain's voice, the foeman's tread,
And shout of men who knew not fear,
Onward to victory led,—
Our brave old sires, with Freedom's banner spread.

Beneath a wintry sky,
At Trenton, in that glorious fight,
Oh, list the bold, triumphant cry
Of Liberty and Right,
Flung back from hill to hill with wild delight!

'Mid subtle foes combined,
How firm was he, that gallant one,
Ordained of Heaven to bless mankind,—
Columbia's noblest son,
The pride of earth, the immortal Washington!

Sternly he led the van,
The champion of his country's cause,
Sworn to defend the rights of man,
His country and her laws,
Against a sway that half the world o'erawes.

'Twas he, and he alone,
Whose skill could guide the banded few,—
The few who shook a monarch's throne,—
Patriots sore tried, but true;
Those iron men, whose faith still stronger grew.

And well they earned their fame
Who fixed on Freedom's star their gaze,
And fought and bled in Freedom's name,
And 'mid the battle's blaze
Bore off the palm, in those heroic days.

Cornwallis! still thy shade
Bewails, methinks, the fated hour
That saw thee yield thy valiant blade
A prize to sterner power,
With spirit bowed, till then untaught to cower.

Nor sought he self-renown
Who scourged the foe, and held the sway;
But now, from proffered kingly crown,
With scorn he turned away,
And moral virtue hailed her proudest day.

Yet his were honors high,—
The highest which the world bestows;
And calm, within a peaceful sky,
His star resplendent rose,—
Life's crowning star, triumphant in repose.

With soul that ne'er repined,
He wrought his task; and, ever true,
Now bade, with admonitions kind,
To power and place adieu,
And, like the Roman, to the plough withdrew.

How vain the lofty tower,
Though reared to heaven by giant hand,
To speak his praise whose matchless power
Redeemed his native land,
And won him fame that will through time expand!

On Vernon's rugged side,
Where eagles stoop to build the nest,
There let the hero, with his bride,
In hallowed slumber rest;
His fittest monument the mountain's crest.

And there, as they advance,
Let ages yet unborn of time,
Warriors who strike with Freedom's lance,
And men of every clime,
Revere his dust, and laud his deeds sublime.

Oh, may the land that's free
Ne'er fall a prey to faction's blight,
But with her glorious history
Still blend a holier light,
To cheer her sons, and guide them in the right!

Go fling upon the air,
With bolder hand, her banner's flame;
And still preserve with jealous care
Her honor and her fame,
Nor fear to lead the way with heaven-born aim.

Wide as the world is wide
Shall Freedom's blessings yet extend;
And man, whate'er his clime, confide
In man, as friend in friend,
And pride of power her errors wisely mend.