Classic Poem

When Autumn, all humid and drear,
With darkness and storms in his train,
Announcing the death of the year,
Despoil'd of its verdure the plain:
When horror congenial prevail'd,
Where graves are with fearfulness trod,
De Hart by his sister was wail'd;
His sister thus sigh'd o'er his sod:

" Near Hudson, a fort, on these banks,
" Its flag of defiance unfurl'd:
" He led to the storm the first ranks;
" On them iron tempests were hurl'd.
" Transpierc'd was his breast with a ball —
" His breast a red fountain supply'd,
" Which, gushing in waves still and small,
" Distain'd his white bosom and side.

" His visage was ghastly in death,
" His hair, that so lavishly curl'd,
" I saw, as he lay on the heath,
" In blood, and with dew-drops impearl'd.
" How dumb is the tongue that could speak
" Whate'er could engage and delight!
" How faded the rose on his cheek!
" Those eyes, how envelop'd in night!

" Those eyes, that illumin'd each soul,
" All darken'd to us are now grown:
" In far other orbits they roll,
" Like stars to new systems when gone.
" My brother, the pride of the plain,
" In vain did the graces adorn;
" His blossom unfolded in vain,
" To die like the blossom of morn.

" Oh war! thou hast wasted our clime,
" And tortur'd my bosom with sighs;
" My brother, who fell ere his prime,
" For ever is torn from my eyes.
" To me, how distracting the storm,
" That blasted the youth in his bloom!
" Alas! was so finish'd a form
" Design'd for so early a tomb?

" How bright were the prospects that shone!
" Their ruin 'tis mine to deplore —
" Health, beauty, and youth were his own;
" Health, beauty, and youth are no more.
" No blessings of nature and art,
" Nor music that charm'd in the song,
" Nor virtues that glow'd in the heart,
" Dear youth, could thy moments prolong!

" Thrice six times the spring had renew'd
" Its youth and its charms for the boy:
" With rapture all nature he view'd,
" For nature he knew to enjoy.
" But chiefly his country could charm:
" He felt — 'twas a generous heat —
" With drums and the trumpet's alarm,
" His pulses in consonance beat.

" Ye heroes, to whom he was dear,
" Come weep o'er this sorrowful urn,
" Come case the full heart with a tear —
" My hero will never return:
" He died in the dawn of applause,
" His country demanded his breath;
" Go, heroes, defend the same cause,
" Avenge, with your country, his death. "

So sung on the top of the rocks,
The virgin in sorrow more fair;
In tears her blue eyes; and her locks
Of auburn flew loose in the air.
I heard, as I pass'd down the stream;
The guards of the foe were in view: —
To enterprize fir'd by the theme,
I bade the sweet mourner adieu.