Classic Poem

T HERE'S a star in the west that shall never go down
Till the records of valor decay;
We must worship its light, though it is not our own,
For liberty burst in its ray.
Shall the name of a Washington ever be heard
By a freeman, and thrill not his breast?
Is there one out of bondage that hails not the word
As the Bethlehem star of the west?

" War, war to the knife! be enthralled or ye die, "
Was the echo that woke in his land;
But it was not his voice that promoted the cry,
Nor his madness that kindled the brand.
He raised not his arm, he defied not his foes,
While a leaf of the olive remained;
Till goaded with insult, his spirit arose
Like a long-baited lion unchained.

He struck with firm courage the blow of the brave,
But sighed o'er the carnage that spread:
He indignantly trampled the yoke of the slave,
But wept for the thousands that bled.
Though he threw back the fetters and headed the strife,
Till man's charter was fairly restored;
Yet he prayed for the moment when freedom and life
Would no longer be pressed by the sword.

Oh! his laurels were pure; and his patriot name
In the page of the future shall dwell,
And be seen in all annals, the foremost in fame,
By the side of a Hofer and the good
Among Britons have nobly confessed
That his was the glory and ours was the blood
Of the deeply-stained field of the west.