Classic Poem

In scenes of distant death bold Hezron stands,
Dies his blue arms, and pains his aged hands;
Full many a chief his veteran falchion crowns,
Thick flit the shades, and blood the verdure drowns.
Impetuous Carmi springs the chief to meet,
Conscious of youth, and light with nimble feet;
His arm all active strews the sanguine ground,
Wakes the deep groan, and deals the frequent wound:
Full on his angry sword the warriors rush,
Impel th' upright, the falling heedless crush:
No chief the fury of his arm withstands,
And ruin widens o'er bold Hezron's bands.
Amaz'd, the hero saw the deluge spread,
And wide, and wider rise the piles of dead,
Flight first commence in hosts that own his sway,
And proud Ai hail a second conquering day:
From his sad bosom heav'd a heavy groan;
Round the whole war he miss'd his favourite son:
Untaught to droop, he hopes congenial fire
May yet ward shame, and yet the troops inspire. —
Where now, he cries, are fled the boasts of morn?
The towering stalk? the brow of lifted scorn?
Then Judah's warriors promis'd deeds of fame,
Hiss'd impious flight, and spurn'd the dastard's shame.
Far other scenes now rend these hapless eyes;
The foe advances, and the boaster flies;
Broke but by fear, ye wing inglorious flight,
Giants in words, and maidens in the fight;
Oh had kind Heaven dispens'd a speedier doom,
And this frail form in Bashan found a tomb!
Then had these palsied limbs, in peace repos'd;
Unpain'd with shame, these eyes in triumph clos'd;
Pleas'd to the last, survey'd my favourite race,
View'd no base flight, and bled for no disgrace. —
Hence, hence, ye timorous souls, to Joshua fly,
And tell the Chief, ye saw your leader die.
The hero spoke; and urg'd by passion's force,
On furious Carmi bent his aged course;
Awful in gleam of arms, the chiefs appear,
Here the bold youth, the white-hair'd hero there:
But ere his sword great Hezron could extend,
Or circling bands their ancient chief defend,
A long, bright lance his wary foe beheld,
And snatch'd it glittering on the bloody field;
Swift through the hero's side he forc'd the steel;
Pierc'd to the heart, the aged warrior fell;
There lay, a corse, bespread with purple stains,
The form, that triumph'd on a hundred plains.
On Ridgefield's hills, to shame to virtue dead,
Thus dastard bands the foe inglorious fled;
When Wooster singly brav'd the deathful ground,
Fir'd hosts in vain, and met the fatal wound.
In dangers born, to arms in childhood train'd,
From Gallia's heroes many a palm he gain'd;
With freedom's sacred flame serenely glow'd
For justice arm'd, and sought the field for GOD ;
With steady zeal his nation's interest lov'd;
(No terror touch'd him, and no injury mov'd)
Far in the front, with dauntless bosom bled,
And crown'd the honours of his hoary head.
Bent o'er his foe, the lovely Carmi stood,
And view'd, with tears of grief, his bursting blood;
And thus — Unhappy sire, he sadly cried —
Perhaps thy monarch's joy, thy nation's pride. —
How like my father's bends thy hoary brow?
His limbs, his countenance, and his locks of snow,
All in thy venerable face I see —
Perhaps the parent of a son like me —
He spoke; and fiercely wheel'd his bloody sword,
Sprang to the fight, and many a hero gor'd;
His voice, his eyes the joyful host inspire,
And through the sweetness flames a dreadful fire.
Active as light, o'er trembling ranks he hung;
Shouts shook the plains, the frighted forests rung:
Unnumber'd sullen groans were heard around;
Unnumber'd corses cloath'd the purple ground:
From post to post retir'd pale Judah's train,
And chief on chief increas'd the piles of slain.
Dark as an evening cloud, bold Ai was driven,
Gloom'd all the fields, and cast a shade on heaven;
Wide roll'd the storm; wide drove the dust along,
And ruin hover'd o'er the flying throng.
Meantime, brave Irad turn'd his sparkling eyes,
And saw in distant fields the clouds arise;
Sad flight and terror fill'd the backward plain,
And the foe shouted o'er his kindred slain.
As, when autumnal clouds the skies deform,
Bursts the wild whirlwind from the gloomy storm;
Hoarse crash the pines; oaks stiffly stubborn fall,
And sudden thunders listening swains appall:
So, wing'd by Heaven, impetuous Irad flew;
As swift their darling chief the youths pursue;
Whelm'd in their path, the falling bands expire,
And crowds of warriors from their steps retire.
Now, where brave Carmi swept the purple ground,
Terrific Irad shook his buckler's round;
Alike in years they seem'd, alike in arms,
Of equal stature, and of rival charms:
Nor this, nor that, the dangerous fight can yield;
But each demands the empire of the field.
From the fierce chiefs the wondering bands retreat;
Blows following blows their sounding shields repeat;
Uncleft, each faithful orb the stroke rebounds,
Blunts the keen blade, and intercepts the wounds:
'Till Irad's nimble arm, with sudden wheel,
Through Carmi's side impels the fatal steel,
Pure streams of crimson stain the subject ground,
And the freed soul pervades the gaping wound.
Not that fair pride, that soul-supporting flame,
That lights the splendors of th' immortal name;
Not all the bravery nature can impart,
Nor the fond wishes of a virgin's heart,
Nor parents' vows, nor nations' prayers could save,
The young, bright hero from an early grave.
He fell, with beauty's fairest beams adorn'd,
While foes admir'd him, and while Irad mourn'd.
Ah youth, too soon allotted to the tomb;
Oh had kind Heaven dispens'd a softer doom,
On thy fair deeds a sweet reward bestow'd,
And op'd the mansions of the bless'd abode!
Thus, where sad Charlestown lifts her hills on high,
Where once gay structures charm'd the morning sky,
Ere Howe's barbarian hand in savage fire
Wrapp'd the tall dome, and whelm'd the sacred spire,
In life's fair prime, and new to war's alarms,
Brave Warren sunk, in all the pride of arms.
With me, each generous mind the hour recall,
When pale Columbia mourn'd her favourite's fall;
Mourn'd the bright statesman, hero, patriot, fled,
The friend extinguish'd, and the genius dead;
While he, the darling of the wise, and good,
Seal'd his firm truth, and built his name in blood.