 | Lyrical and other poems |  |
24
BENEDICT ARNOLD.
Columbia shall tell of thy splendor,
Whilst her history repeats each proud name,
Nor the deeds, 'twas thy fortune to render,
Shall be totally eclipsed by thy shame!
Whilst she tells how thy baseness betrayed her
To the rage of a vengeful invader,
Shall she also renew the proud story,
Where thy gallantry led her to glory!
Whilst her history repeats each proud name,
Nor the deeds, 'twas thy fortune to render,
Shall be totally eclipsed by thy shame!
Whilst she tells how thy baseness betrayed her
To the rage of a vengeful invader,
Shall she also renew the proud story,
Where thy gallantry led her to glory!
The beloved of thy country! the cherish'd
Of the greatest and purest of men!
In thy Suicide of Soul, thou hast perish'd
And what can restore thee again!
For the deeds thou hast done, we esteem thee,
For the deeds thou could'st do—we'd redeem thee,
But for what thou'dst have done we will hurl thee from story,
Who might have been first in our annals of glory.
Of the greatest and purest of men!
In thy Suicide of Soul, thou hast perish'd
And what can restore thee again!
For the deeds thou hast done, we esteem thee,
For the deeds thou could'st do—we'd redeem thee,
But for what thou'dst have done we will hurl thee from story,
Who might have been first in our annals of glory.
Go Recreant, and tell to the nations,
That the blood 'twas thy fortune to shed
By that one act, is like the libations,
Pour'd out to the use of the dead!
The scars that thou gained'st for freedom,
A column to fame we've decreed 'em,
Whilst thy spirit and name we have hurl'd from our story
The Pleiad that's lost to our banner of glory!
That the blood 'twas thy fortune to shed
By that one act, is like the libations,
Pour'd out to the use of the dead!
The scars that thou gained'st for freedom,
A column to fame we've decreed 'em,
Whilst thy spirit and name we have hurl'd from our story
The Pleiad that's lost to our banner of glory!
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