Classic Poem

FOR THE ST. GEORGE'S SOCIETY AT NEW YORK .

  In early Time, e'er infant Law
From Wisdom's bed
Had rear'd her head,
  The tyrant kept his slaves in awe.
Justice feebly pois'd the scale:
Wisdom only could prevail.

  In vain the aged Matron weeps
  O'er blushing Beauty's rifled charms;
  Her eyes on Heaven in vain she keeps;
 The fainting Virgin fills the Robber's arms,
 Secure he riots o'er his helpless prey,
Mocks all her woes, and bears the prize away!

  Now brighter days began to dawn.
  Oppression saw the light, and fled:
  In dark Cocytus plung'd her head
   Beneath the infernal wave.
  Fair Freedom gilt the spreading Lawn;
  Her sons confest a generous flame:
  Each ardent Hero pants for fame,
By gallant deeds to build a deathless name,
   Or fill a nobler grave.
  Immortal Glory high in air
  The heavenly standard spread!
The laurel Wreath,
The marble Bust,

The trophied canvass, and sweet Clio's page
 Defy, O Time, thy utmost rage.
The good and just
Her spirit breathe.
'Tis Glory fires the Hero's prayer,
And crowns th' heroic dead.

 Swift at her call in every clime
 Her sons appear in Virtue's cause;
 Valour supplied the force of laws,
 And rais'd their fame sublime.

 'Twas thus great George our Patron shone.
 No Virgin then was heard complain:
 No injur'd Matron sued in vain:
 To distant lands his fame was known.

 The friend of Man, the Tyrant's foe,
 His bosom felt a generous glow
To succour the distrest:
 To latest times are handed down
 His gallant deeds, his just renown:
And make his Memory blest.

 In honor of his natal day,
 His Sons their annual homage pay
And emulate their Sire.
 Nor shall their grateful tribute end,
 Till final peals the Heavens shall rend
And wrap this Earth in fire.